Run for your life
by I-Am-The-Stig
Summary: Cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war! The Joker escapes from Arkham and causes all sorts of mischief and mayhem, a new mob boss is in town who decides to use the Joker's special talents. Lots of Jokery goodness.
1. Chapter 1

**This is going to be a long story that i will update as often as i can. Seeing as i have one week till the holidays start i will probably update quite often. This is my first fanfiction that i've written and i must say i'm very proud of what i've done so far. **

**Disclaimer: i don't own Batman, The Dark Knight or The Joker.**

**Note: some chapters will have a bit of violence and horror scenes, so don't read if you can't stomach the idea of blood, guts and human flesh. (that is a pun that indicates what will come in later chapters). **

**_And... here... we... go._**

The Joker was only captured last night but already the media were predicting what would happen next. Wondering how long he would stay in jail. Or if this time it was for good.

They argued with each other over what his goons would do, if they would help their master or abandon him, or if the ones that were caught were the only workers the Joker had hired.

Many theorised that he probably had dozens, even hundreds of plans of escape, while others said that he wouldn't have planned any thing because, as he himself often said, he doesn't have any plans.

A few journalists tried to spark up controversies, saying that the Joker had already escaped but the police were keeping it quiet so that the public wouldn't panic.

...

Down at the police station, a podium had been set up on the front steps to deal with the large crowd that had come with many questions to which they demanded answers. Commissioner Gordon was answering the hundreds of queries being thrown at him by the large throng of mainly consisting of journalists, who were blocking half the road and pushing and shouting over each other.

"How strong is the security in the cell he's in?"

"Has he said anything?"

"When will he be put on trail?"

"Why didn't you just shoot him?"

They all called out different questions at the same time, obviously making it very difficult for the commissioner to even hear them let alone provide an answer.

"If we all can just quiet down a bit then I will be able to answer your questions," he rationalised, and the noise slowly subsided to a soft murmur.

"Now," he pointed towards a bespectacled man, "what would you like to ask?"

The man didn't hesitate, "how confident are you about your ability to prevent the Joker from escaping like he did last time?"

"We are extremely confident that we will be able to hold the Joker," Gordon stated, "he is currently in our interrogation cell which has the highest security in this entire establishment, he is being watched around the clock by security cameras as well as guards and we have procedures if he manages to escape from his cell"

"What if he takes hostages?" asked another journalist.

"The possibility of the Joker taking hostages will be very minimal as no one is allowed to enter the cell without another officer and my own consent," he assured, "if he were to take hostages then we have a few procedures to deal with that situation and others similar to it."

A brown haired woman near the middle shouted out, "Why didn't you just shoot him?"

The commissioner waited for the loud murmur that had risen after the question to die down.

"the Joker was already tied up by the time that our swat team reached him, if we were to have shot and killed him when he was already incapacitated then we would have been responsible for murder, which as you all know is what he wanted us to do, to bring us down to his level," he explained.

That answer seemed to make the crowd think for a moment.

One young journalist asked, "When will he be put on trial?"

"He won't be taken into court," Gordon replied, "but his sentence will be decided by Sunday. It's most likely that he will be sent to Arkham Asylum."

A lieutenant whispered in his ear, "I'm sorry but that is all the questions I can answer for now, there will however be a conference tomorrow at 9 o'clock in the morning at City Hall, hopefully your questions will be answered then."

He climbed up the steps and entered the police station, the noise of the crowd outside muffled by the doors.

...

The man was slumped in his chair, head on the table. His purple suit was dirty and stained with blood. The face paint he wore was smudged and rubbed off in some places. The excitement and adrenaline from last night had worn off and he was exhausted.

Exhausted but not asleep.

He knew that they were watching him through the glass. He couldn't tell how many, but he knew that there was someone.

He was thinking about anything and everything, though mainly about last night. Indeed it could be said that he was wrong in his judgement on human nature. But it was, after all, a social experiment, and he learned a great deal from it. He actually preferred the outcome, it was far more interesting and… surprising compared to what he had hypothesised.

He loved it when things were unpredictable. It really kept him on his toes. It was a challenge that occupied him for far longer than just watching the explosion and its aftermath.

Being tranquillised however was not fun or interesting and he was left with a throbbing headache. If any one thought that now would be a good time to talk to him, then they would be dead wrong.

He wished they'd turn off the bloody light.

...

The Bat suit had been repaired and put safely away into storage. Batman was going on a well deserved holiday. At the insistence of Albert, Bruce Wayne would not go any where near the Bat cave and would actually spend the nights asleep in his bed.

God knows he needed it.

He resolved to continue to help people, however not as Batman, as billionaire Bruce Wayne. He had already donated a few million to the public charities involved in helping the people who had suffered from the Joker's recklessness, and in part, Batman's as well.

Bruce had spent the night thinking about Batman and his methods for fighting crime. Was violence the only way to go? Was there another more effective way that he could fix Gotham's crime problem? Most of the criminals that he had apprehended were from poor families or had a less than satisfactory upbringing.

He was beating up people who knew no other life apart from violence. People who never even had a remote opportunity at having a good life.

It took him a lot of emotional determination, but he was eventually able to see the man that had killed his parents as some one who wasn't evil. Someone who at a young age might have also had parents die because of someone else's greed. He was probably trodden on and looked down at by the elite all his life and because of that, seen every one who had success as selfish and uncaring. He no longer hated the man but the death of his parents still hurt. If he could prevent at least one child from going through what he did then he would die a happy man.

The only problem was how.

**How do you like it? **

**If you spot any problems then tell me and i'll see if i can fix them.**

**I would appreciate reviews that give me constructive criticism. I don't want criticism that doesn't tell me what to improve.**

**I also wouldn't mind reviews that inflate my ego and tell me how good i am. (HE HE HE).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hooray, chapter two. There isn't any blood in this chapter. If you think that it's going a bit slow, then too bad because this is the pace that i intend to keep it at because it is important to the story. **

**Disclaimer: i do not own The Dark Knight or The Joker (though i wish i did).**

**Enjoy.**

The commissioner entered the observation room. The glass hadn't been cleaned in a while, the hand prints visible enough to make the glass seem dirty but it could still be easily seen through. He quietly observed the Joker, who was awake and held look on his face that was somewhere between boredom and discontent.

"He hasn't said anything or moved apart from sitting up," the officer on guard duty informed him.

Gordon nodded in response. A sergeant known as Nigel Hawthorne entered; he was an old friend of Gordon's and could always be relied on to get the job done.

"The boys are ready, when do you want to interrogate him?" he jerked his head towards the Joker.

"Right now should be fine," Gordon replied.

He walked out of the room.

...

The Joker was bored.

He'd only woken up an hour or so ago and he was already wishing that he was dead. There was absolutely nothing to do. No one to stare at and freak the crap out of. No noise or even any colour. It was all white.

Or it once was white, he didn't want to know what caused the stains that ran down the walls… on second thought, maybe he would.

He was thinking but he was one of those people who liked to do something with their hands while they thought. Like twirl his switchblade. Unfortunately, when they took him in they also took his jacket with all his knives and other odd things that he kept in his pockets.

Most people would have wallets or mobiles in their pockets, but not the Joker. Except for the mobile, he only had knives and matches.

Before he could reminisce about his pockets for much longer there was a groan and a small screech as the large reinforced door was opened and three people walked in. One of them was his good old friend, Commissioner Gordon and two guards wielding pistols.

The pistols were trained on him.

"Good evening, or should I say good morning? I can't really _tell_ what timeit is in herrre."

Commissioner Gordon wasn't interested in small talk at the moment, "it's the morning. Now I'm sure you know why you're in here, so let's just cut to the chase, do you have a name apart from the Joker?"

The Joker just stared at him with a bored look on his face. Gordon stared back at him, willing him to speak. He just wasn't in the mood for playing games today.

"Do you even remember your name? And don't try to convince me that _Joker_ is your real name."

The Joker continued to stare at him, he held his gaze.

Finally he gave up, sighing, he looked down at the paper work he had brought in with him.

"Right now, your fate is being decided by people whom shall remain anonymous, over at the court house."

The Jokers face remained as still as a stone. A few moments passed. The commissioner was beginning to get angry.

"Don't you care about your future?!"

The Joker slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving Gordon's. Gordon sighed again, deciding that he may as well read the files he brought with him and wait until the Joker decided to talk.

"Why do you hunt the Batman?"

Gordon looked up.

"Shouldn't you both be, uh, joining forces?"

Gordon turned to face the Joker fully.

"Batman is wanted for the murder of five innocent people, not to mention the destruction of government and private property," he stated.

The Joker looked slightly confused.

"The Batman killed five people? The Batman's number one rule is not to kill any one. I think you're lying commissioner, I think somebody else committed those murders, somebody who's, uh, public image you don't want to ruin, like…" the Joker pretended to think, "Harvey dent."

The commissioner kept the calm expression on his face.

"No, you are wrong there Joker. Either way, we need to apprehend Batman and have him put on trial."

A small smile crept onto the Joker's face.

"That shouldn't be too hard for you _commissioner,_" he purred, "after all, it would only take a bit of _logic_ to find the Batman"

Gordon raised one eyebrow and asked, "what would you know about logic?"

"Enough to know that the Batman must be _really_ rich in order to afford all those, uh, expensive toys," he pointed out.

Gordon looked back at him with a bored look, "hmmm, well that's obvious, but it only narrows down our subjects to about thirty, assuming of course that it is a Caucasian male who doesn't leave the city to go on holidays every week. Got any useful information that we don't already know about?"

The Joker just shrugged, "release me and I'll catch him for you."

"Not a chance," Gordon replied, "anything else?"

"Yes, if you ever manage to talk to the Batman, tell him that I'm looking forward to, uh, playing games again. Who knows, next time he might have the _upper hand_."

"Joker, as far as I am concerned, there never_ will_ be a next time" Gordon stood up and headed towards the door.

The laughter started then and grew until even the reinforced door couldn't contain it.

**Yay! For some strange reason i am utterly estatic today! **

**Any way, reviews will be welcomed and reviewers will be given Moist, Delicious Cake.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third chapter, spiffing! This does contain a bit of violence, so readers beware.**

**Disclaimer: i don't own The dark knight or the Joker.**

**Hope this is entertaining enough for you.**

Early the next morning three guards were in the observation room. One brown haired officer, who bore the name Douglas on his badge, was sipping coffee and looking through the glass, the other two officers, a large bear of a man nicknamed Bull and another man who was overweight and balding was known as Frank.

Most of the office staff hadn't arrived yet and the early morning constables on patrol hadn't yet come back to sign off their shift. The building was virtually devoid of life, excluding of course all the criminals in the over crowded cells. The three men were alone, left to do what they wanted. Unfortunately for them they had very little in the way of entertainment.

Douglas noticed the Joker sit up, "Looks like he's woken up."

The other two turned to look through the glass. If someone were to come in and look at them at that moment, then that person would be forgiven for believing that the officers were waiting for an explosion to happen. The officers were in fact waiting for an explosion, though in the form of someone venting their rage.

They were sorely disappointed however, when after a minute nothing happened, the Joker only moved to sit on the table facing towards the door.

"He doesn't deserve to be here," Bull stated.

He'd lost a few good friends because of the Joker, they all had.

"Yeah," frank responded, "he's probably laughing at us because we can't kill him."

Bull started to become frustrated, "it's what he wants, so why can't we just give it to him?"

"Because it's against the law," Douglas said, still calmly sipping his coffee.

"We should at least teach him a lesson," grumbled Bull.

A smile grew on Frank's face, "why don't you? Nobody's here, you might as well rough him up a bit, see if you can wipe that smile off his face."

Douglas was a little unsure, "you're not allowed in there, wouldn't somebody notice if all of a sudden he had all this blood on him?"

They all turned to look at the Joker.

"I doubt that any one would notice if he had a few more blood stains, but just to be safe it might be a good idea to just give him a few hits to the gut, nothing hard enough to put him in hospital," Frank suggested.

"Alright, I'm going in," Bull was eager for some entertainment, "you guys stay in here and keep watch."

He pulled brass knuckles out of his pocket and exited the room, cracking his neck as he went.

...

The Joker had only been awake for about ten minutes when the door was opened. One very large man walked in.

Only one? He sensed danger.

The man looked threatening, especially since he was wielding brass knuckles. He stood up.

"Looking for a fight are you?" he asked the burly man.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I am," he replied and swung a fist at the Joker.

He easily ducked under it and kicked the guard in the back with a side kick. The guard's momentum from his own swing coupled with the force from the kick sent him over the table.

This caused the Joker to laugh madly.

The guard rose to his feet and ran at the Joker, who again dodged his attack, laughing all the time. The man recovered fast enough to grab the laughing lunatic by the front of his suit and slam him against the door.

Still laughing, the Joker asked him, "why so serious?"

Then reached up a hand and thrust two fingers into the man's eyes. The guard screamed in pain and released him. Trying to get away the guard found that he couldn't, the Joker had hooked his fingers in the eye sockets. The Joker pushed the guard up against the glass and using his free left hand punched him in the stomach at few times.

...

As soon as Bull screamed Frank ran off to get help and Douglas was left to watch in terror as the Joker took advantage of his friend's weakness.

Frank ran through the building to the front desk where he spotted the commissioner.

"Commissioner, help!" he cried out in panic, "Bulls being attacked by the Joker!"

The commissioner didn't stop to ask questions, he grabbed as many people in the room as he could, commanded them to grab their guns and ran towards the interrogation room, the officers hot on his heels.

...

The guard was begging him for mercy now. He grabbed the guard's right ear and growled into it.

"Would you like me to put a smile on your face?"

"No, no please, no, I didn't mean it, I wasn't going to hurt you that bad," he begged.

The Joker merely laughed. Seeing as he had no knife and the brass knuckles the man had dropped by the door had no sharp edges, he decided to go with what he had. Using the blood that was running from the man's eyes he painted a bloody smile on his face. Then, before he could have any more fun, the door was thrown open and Gordon and a few guards rushed in.

"Let go of him this instant!" Gordon yelled.

The joker did as he was told, pulling his fingers out of the man's eyes with a sickening squelching sound, and moved to stand against the back wall.

Gordon helped some of his officers remove the wounded man from the room. When he returned, he saw the Joker leaning against the wall sucking his bloody fingers with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"The sooner you go to Arkham the better," he growled with enough malice in his voice to stop a charging bull in its tracks.

The Joker just shrugged and continued to lick his fingers. When the door was closed he slid down the wall.

The day was only about an hour old and already his energy was spent.

...

The man would never be able to see again, his eyes were completely destroyed. If he was lucky he might be able to survive the infection that caused copious amounts of puss to build up. He along with the other officers involved, Frank and Douglas were fired almost immediately for disobeying a strict order and putting lives at risk.

Little did they know at the time but the citizens of Gotham had been extremely close to having the Joker back on the streets.

The media, as usual were all over the story, claiming the police department were unable to hold the Joker and stating that for the safety of Gotham it would be best if the police had someone more able in charge.

Gordon felt depressed, the police felt like failures, the citizen's of Gotham felt anxious and angry, and Bruce Wayne felt that he wasn't doing enough to help.

The Joker was probably the only one who felt a little more positive.

**well, that's chapter three. Chapter next one will be up fairly soon.**

**Review. You will get Moist Delicious Cake.**


	4. Chapter 4

**chapter four is up and running. i must say, i haven't recieved any reviews for this yet and i know i'm new on here but i did expect at least one after i posted. so please, please, please review and give me some support here.**

**Disclaimer: i do not own the dark knight or the joker.**

They had to get him in a straight jacket and give him a sedative before he was considered safe to be transported. The citizens of Gotham knew nothing of the transfer of the Joker to Arkham Asylum. The press only found out a day after when they managed to bribe a drunk off duty police officer. Though the media was still hysterical about the Joker's capture, the citizens of Gotham had breathed a deep sigh of relief at the news that he would be locked away in a nut house for the rest of his life.

--

A young girl of about 15 walked out of a Gloria Jeans coffee shop. She was brown haired and was quite large though not obese.

Though she was rather unremarkable in looks and intelligence, her father was quite the opposite. He was a well known and successful psychiatrist who worked with, and even cured, some of the worst lunatics in America. Known for his intelligence and charm, Dr. Dunn had currently been given the opportunity to work at Arkham Asylum, which had "so-called" incurable patients.

She glanced at the watch strapped to her wrist. "Crap" she said under her breath and quickly hurried to the pedestrian crossing which had just turned green. She was late for her train. She was new to this city, having had to move here with her father. Gotham was notorious for its crime, so she didn't want to wait around alone at a bus stop or catch a ride alone in a taxi. You had to keep looking behind your shoulder in Gotham.

--

Dr. Jared Dunn leant against the kitchen bench, sipping his coffee. The staff were settling down at the tables with their coffee and biscuits.

They were very eager to enjoy their coffee break today.

All the patients had been acting strangely. Some were running around like headless chickens. Others were cowering down under their bed and refused to come out even for breakfast. Many had to be sedated or put into straight jackets. The doctors couldn't understand what had come over them. Discussing it, there were a few good arguments among the flippant dismissals of some who believed that the inmates were just trying to cause trouble. At one table, three doctors were having a heated argument about the Joker having somehow caused the ruckus.

One known as Manny Black said, "The other patients must fear him, can't you see them hiding in the foetal position under their beds?"

Another elderly doctor called George Westron replied, "Not all of them are hiding, some of them are running around as though they are excited about having the Joker stay."

"What does the Joker have to do with anything, he's just another mentally disturbed person, he isn't any different to any other patient we have here, such as Crane or Nigma," reasoned Josephine Knight, one of only three female doctors working at the asylum.

"Yes, but the Joker only came here last night and the patients weren't acting strangely yesterday. Another point to note is that the Joker is markedly different from most if not all of the other patients here," Doctor Westron pointed out.

Doctor Knight retorted, "How is he different from any other patient? He wears something to cover his face, he is sadistic and has no disregard for human life, and as far as we know he is trying to make an impact on if not change our society. Some other patients here are also sadists or sociopaths, some wear masks and quite a few were trying to change their society."

"True," George conceded, "but what he aims to achieve seems to be completely different to the goals of the other patients. He apparently wants to show society that rules are unnecessary, a hindrance if you will, and he causes large amounts of chaos and anarchy. This is the complete opposite to all the other inmates. They, such as the Riddler want to create utopias, the perfect society. They all have some sort of order or logic in their ideas, they do what they do as a means of creating security for themselves. The Joker, as far as we know, wants none of that."

Doctor Manny Black who had been listening intently added, "The problem is that we don't know much, if anything of his motives or goals apart from what we have learnt from his recordings and police interviews. Once we get the chance to interview and assess him we may find that he has goals and insecurities are similar to all the other patients."

"Anyway," Josephine sighed, "we still don't know what is causing the odd behaviour of the patients."

The doctors remained silent, sipping their coffee thoughtfully.

All of the psychiatrists in the room turned towards the door as their employer, Dr. Arkham entered. He surveyed the room full of hopeful faces. He knew that all of the senior doctors were hoping that he would give them the new case.

Looking at Jared he commanded, "Dr. Dunn would you please come to my office."

Jared set down his coffee and walked out of the room accompanied by numerous stares of jealousy.

Entering the office he was told to take a seat in one of the comfortable chairs that stood before the desk. Doctor Arkham sat heavily in his leather armchair and folded his hands on his desk.

"Now I assume you know why I have called you in here," he asked, "the question is do you _want_ to take on the Joker?"

Jared replied eagerly, "Yes. Yes of course I do. I have wanted to take him on ever since, well, ever since he was reported on the news."

The other doctor nodded pleased at his employee's enthusiasm but still a little concerned, "Take care though, if you have been watching him on the news then you will know that he is extremely dangerous. I don't want him to have any chance at escaping from his bondages and getting a hold of you, because as you know any small opportunity he gets he can cause a large amount of damage with. Did you hear about the police officer who had his eyes poked out?"

Jared remembered it. He had seen the poor man being put into an ambulance.

"Yes. It was lucky that help came so soon because otherwise that guy might have lost more than his eyes."

The doctor made a hum of agreement while slowly nodding his head.

"Well you understand the danger then. Just remember that it's better to be safe than sorry," he said and handed Dr. Dunn a thin yellow envelope.

"Lets see how long it takes for you to fill that up," he challenged and dismissed Jared who thanked him and walked out of the office with a large grin on his face.

--

Driving home, Jared thought about his new assignment, The Joker. He was a real lunatic according to the media and everyone who had come into contact with him. They said that it would be better for him and everyone else if he were given a lethal injection.

But Jared believed otherwise.

After reading his file he knew that the task of curing the Joker, or at least getting information on him would be very difficult. He could almost bet that if he was to succeed in cracking the Joker then he would get a very large pay packet in reward. Not to mention a good reference for his resume. He thought back to other patients that he had talked to.

He had kept an open mind to all that they had said and didn't tell them how stupid he thought some of their stories were. Eventually they got sick of talking nonsense and with a few of the right questions began talking about their lives, why they did things, what they dreamed about, what their past was like. Just by being patient he was able to get them to open up and he could then go ahead and ask questions and make suggestions. By using this technique he was able to cure patients who had been labelled as incurable by the asylums that housed them. Some patients were even released and had created a life for themselves.

Of course the Joker would never be allowed to be released.

At least, not in his current condition. It would be Jared's greatest achievement to be able to rehabilitate the Clown Prince of crime.

He was determined to succeed.

**the girl will not be a love interest or any thing like that, she may appear again but she has no relevance to the plot of the story, and her only connection is that she is the daughter of the doctor who is treating the joker. **

**please, please, pleeeeaaaase review. i need to know what i need to improve as i know my writing isn't perfect, and i also want to know if you like the idea or anything about the story at all. it's like writing to a brick wall here!**

**Review, and you Will get moist delicious cake!**


	5. Chapter 5

**chapter five. i must say that i am pleased to be getting some reviews, they make me feel warm, and... not so much fuzzy, but still make me feel good.**

**Disclaimer: i do not own The Dark Knight, or The Joker. If i did i would be getting paid for slaving away at my computer screen all night.**

Gotham city had been startled by many things recently. The sudden charity donations of the notorious billionaire Bruce Wayne was the most recent of shocks. They deduced that he had been shaken so much by the death of his close friend and rumoured love interest Rachel Dawes, that he had seen the "folly of his ways" so to speak, and was now giving back to the city that he had taken so much from.

Of course they didn't know of his alter-ego, the man who had spent many sleepless nights chasing down criminals and protecting the innocent. The man who had, in secret, done so much for them. And who they treated like a murderer. A vigilante. No better than the villains he fought.

Bruce Wayne knew what the citizens of Gotham thought about the caped crusader, Batman. He also knew that he would have to take on a new persona if he was to save the city of Gotham from becoming the crime capital of America. He introduced this new persona to Gotham when he personally donated 10 million towards the rebuilding of Gotham General Hospital and pledged to raise more through fundraisers. People were a little astonished at this new persona, but very quickly got used to the idea of a billionaire playboy turning into a very generous billionaire Bruce Wayne. Very generous indeed.

...

Bruce Wayne had called Lucias Fox to ask if he could meet with him. Lucias had reluctantly agreed to meet Bruce at his penthouse only because Bruce had guaranteed that he wouldn't have to compromise his conscience in order to help him, in what he believed would help people and prevent them from becoming criminals. Lucias was suspicious, but he reasoned to himself that it couldn't hurt to see what it was all about, and if Bruce was doing something morally wrong then Lucias would do something to stop it.

As he exited the elevator into the large room, often called a ballroom as nobody really understood the purpose of the large space, he was immediately greeted by Bruce's butler and long time friend, Alfred.

"Good morning Mr. Fox, Master Wayne is waiting for you in his study," he cheerfully informed him, "if you could please come right this way".

"Thankyou," Lucias replied and followed the old man towards the study.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Alfred asked, always willing to serve.

"No thankyou," declined Lucias. He didn't really expect to stay long.

As he was led into the study he noticed that it looked as though someone had actually been working in it, there was paper in messy piles on the desk and a few coffee stains as well. He looked at Bruce and observed that he looked like he was actually getting sleep. These were in his opinion good signs, they showed that he might have given up the masked vigilante, or at least was trying to.

Alfred pulled up a chair for him to sit on, which was quite comfortable, and then left, shutting the door behind him. Lucias turned to Bruce, immediately getting down to business.

"So what is this, plan, that you wanted to tell me about?" Lucias asked.

"Well, I have come to realise that despite all that Batman is doing, it isn't really solving the crime problem," Bruce explained, "so I thought that if I could _prevent_ criminals from, being created, instead of punishing them, then I might have a bigger affect."

"Hmmm," Lucias liked the idea but he was still unsure, "and _how_ would you prevent people from committing crime?"

Bruce was fully aware that Lucias didn't trust him like he used to.

"I intend to have built a sort of, safe house, where children can go for help, and other things such as food, a place to sleep and an education. I see it as a sort of orphanage where they are looked after by professional carers, but where they can come and go as they please. They don't have to be homeless either, I know some kids have a real tough time at home and I want this, place, to be somewhere where they will always feel welcome and safe."

Lucias thought about what Bruce had told him. It was a good idea. It did need some more details sorted out and there was no guarantee that it would work as ideally as envisioned, but it was still a very good idea.

"I like the sound of it Bruce," he conceded, "it does need a few more details sorted out though."

Bruce smiled.

"That's where you come in. I know that you quit working for me because of moral obligations, but I assure you that this will be, morally sound, and if you don't like how things are going then you can terminate the project," Bruce convinced him, "so what do you say? Will you help me bring this idea to life and help a large amount of children?"

How could he say no?

"Alright Mr. Wayne, I will work for you, but," he stated, "not Batman."

"Don't worry, Batman won't be working much anymore," Bruce assured him.

They stood and shook hands in agreement.

...

Doctor Dunn had been his psychiatrist for over a month now.

He wanted to kill him.

Slowly and painfully.

He thought that the doctor was a stupid, idiotic, dim-witted, ignorant, delusional, patronizing, arrogant, egotistical, fake, false, fraudulent, obsessive, insane, sadistic, domineering, depressing, oppressive, parasitic, crawling, _happy, bastard leech_ who believed he understood him. Maybe he was exaggerating a _little_ bit, but he still hated him.

The Doctor thought that he could 'cure' him. That, in the Joker's mind, made him the enemy. The Joker didn't believe that he was insane and said so. He reasoned that they refused to acknowledge him as a 'normal' person, because what he had done was sooo terrible.

Oh boo, have a cry. They were just too scared to acknowledge that humans are capable of mass murder and large amounts destruction. He wasn't blowing things up just because he could… well… partly, but still. He wasn't insane and he sure as hell didn't need to be 'cured'.

Since when was insanity a disease anyway? It was a way of thinking that was different to everyone else's last time he checked, and he much preferred that definition.

He didn't think about things like other people did. He didn't understand why people had to have so much routine and order in their lives. It was so boring and dull and mundane. They all had these little systems and plans that were so easy to destroy, and he wanted to show them that, show them how easy it is for things to go wrong.

It was fun. Of course they resisted him, but it only added to the challenge.

The thing that he didn't understand most of all, was why they reported about all the murders and blowing up of things but failed to even mention the good things he did for some people, of course he only helped people when he didn't have his face paints on…

They Took OFF His Face Paint.

He didn't remember when or how, but when he woke up after he was transported he had a vague sensation of being bare. He soon came to realise that he didn't have his paint on when the effect of the drugs had worn off. The Doctor told him that he had the face paint removed in order to talk to the 'real' person behind the 'mask'. The Joker had stated that he was the same person. The Doctor had replied that removing the face paint would help in 'curing' him. That word again.

He _really_ hated the Doctor. He also really wanted to get out. The Doctor was, in the Joker's opinion, too trusting. He had lied to him on many occasions, and though he knew the Doctor doubted his stories, he thought that he could perhaps manipulate the Doctor into trusting him, thus giving him a better chance at escape.

In order to manipulate him however, the Joker would have to be very patient.

...

The black SUV pulled out of the alley. The man in the backseat was quite pleased with himself. The meeting had been a good one.

For him anyway.

He had just succeeded in becoming the 'Top Dog' of the Gotham Underground, having just knocked off Hatillo, the man who had taken the job of the late Maroni. People had already begun to fear him even though he had only moved to the city two weeks ago.

The man, known as Larry Carmody, turned on the television which was his favourite car feature. Almost immediately a picture of Bruce Wayne filled the screen. His sharp intake of breath indicated his hate for the man on the news.

He remembered Bruce. He had trained with him in Ras al ghul's training base in the mountains. He had also been told of Bruce's other persona, Batman, by Henry Ducard when they came to Gotham on their mission. He was one of the lucky ones that survived the whole incident and had escaped interstate.

He personally didn't believe in helping other people and so used what he had been taught to become a very powerful drug lord.

Nevertheless, he hated Batman for what he did to Ras al ghul, who was like the father he never had.

**you know the drill. Please, Please, Pleeeaase review.**

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	6. Chapter 6

**yay! chapter six! i actually finished this faster than i expected. i must say that i am really starting to enjoy writing, but i'm feeling the pressure to write everyday (a good thing where i'm concerned). And Toaster if you are reading this then you will have to find something to criticise about it or i will start to believe that you have lost your brain behind the couch again.**

**this chapter is set three months after the joker was brought to the asylum. (for those who aren't paying attention)**

**disclaimer: i don't own the dark knight or the Joker**

In two months, a new building had been created. The building was known as "home" to the people who used it. Or more specifically, the children. Its construction had been funded by Bruce Wayne, who, along with Lucias Fox, designed it to be used as a safe house for children.

It was dedicated to the late Rachel Dawes.

…

Doctor Dunn tapped his fingers on his desk in impatience.

The Joker now had sessions with the Doctor in his office, because the Doctor believed a change of environment would be more stimulating. Doctor Arkham had allowed this on the condition that the Joker be in a straight jacket and attached to his chair by a handcuff.

It had been three months since the Joker had been admitted to Arkham Asylum. Doctor Dunn had been the Joker's psychiatrist throughout those three months, having sessions with him six days a week. He had come to trust the Joker, despite other doctors warning him against doing so. He ignored their warnings.

_What would they know,_ he thought, _they haven't cured anyone like him. They're just a bunch of quacks who don't know what they are doing._

He believed that in order to cure the Joker, he just had to treat him like a human being. It seemed to be working so far.

…

The Joker hated the Doctor's office.

It was bland, to say the least. It had boring modern architecture, which the Joker believed was made by people who had no skill in it whatsoever. Though the Doctor thought that his office was quite clean and homely, the Joker thought that it was as sterile and unwelcoming as an interrogation cell. Probably the worst thing about it though, was the clock. It's constant, loud ticking irritated him. It reminded him of how much he hated routine.

Fortunately, he believed that he would only have a little longer to endure before he made his escape. He felt that his patience was paying off. The Doctor trusted him.

When the guard had left, the Joker had manipulated the Doctor into untying the arms of the straight jacket. Now the only thing that stood between him and freedom was a handcuff.

He slowly moved his wrist, careful not to make his movements noticed.

…

Though he still didn't know the Joker's real name, Doctor Dunn felt that the Joker was beginning to warm up to him and was talking a little more about himself and his opinion on things. Though there were some times, such as now, when he decided that he would rather play games. The Doctor endured them. Eventually they would stop and he could get down to business.

"Who would you turn gay for?" the Joker asked nonchalantly.

The Doctor was caught completely off guard by such an unexpected and absurd question.

"Sorry?" he spluttered.

"What do you like most about body fluids?" the Joker asked in the same tone of voice.

"Why are you asking me these, random questions?"

"I'm helping you," stated the Joker.

The confused doctor asked, "how are you helping me."

The Joker sighed and turned to face Doctor Dunn fully.

"You seemed to be having difficulty thinking of questions," he spoke slowly, in the way people explain things to dim witted children, "so I am helping you by thinking of questions for you."

The Doctor was still a little puzzled by this warped sense of logic.

"If you don't mind, I would prefer to think of the questions myself," he stated firmly.

"Suit yourself," the Joker replied lightly.

The Doctor thought for another question to ask the Joker, his face a mask of concentration.

"So what do you think about… copy cats?" he finally asked.

"That's a random question," the Joker replied, his voice distant and his thoughts seeming to be elsewhere. He was staring at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand go round.

"Well," the Doctor encouraged.

"Well what?" the Joker asked.

"What do you think of copy cats," the Doctor repeated, "you know, people who kill in the same way that another person used to."

The Joker stared at him. "I think they're losers," He stated disdainfully.

_Finally,_ Doctor Dunn thought, _the games have ended._

He nodded his head, then searched back through his notes for a question that could coerce the Joker into revealing more about himself. Hopefully something that was actually useful or relevant. The Joker continued to stare at the clock. Doctor Dunn soon came across a very important question. This question would reveal a very large amount of information if the Joker chose to answer in truthfully.

"Why do you do it," he asked, "why do you blow things up, and hurt people and all that?"

The Joker tilted his head and smiled.

"It's fun," he replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The Doctor nodded. "For fun? Really," he said doubtfully, "I don't believe you."

"Then why do you think I do it?" the Joker asked, still grinning.

"I'm not sure, but I believe something happened to you –"

" – When I was a young boy, that was sooo traumatizing that I now hate the world and everyone and want them to suffer," the Joker stated in a bored, flat tone, "Wrong! Why must everyone make this about my supposedly horrible past? I can clearly remember what happened a year ago, but anything before that…"

he shrugged, "so what's wrong with my explanation of why I do things?"

The Doctor who had been busily writing in his notebook, looked up, then after a moments hesitation explained,

"I suppose it just, doesn't make sense."

The Joker leaned forward, licking his lips, his facial expression thoughtful.

"Alright," he stated, "I do it for fun, because… I have a sick sense of humour."

"No, it's not… it just doesn't make sense because, well… because it seems so purposeless, and there are many other ways to have fun that don't involve killing," the Doctor struggled to explain, "I'm not really sure why it doesn't make sense. I'll have to give it a bit more thought."

He wrote down a memo on his page, then flipped it back to read the notes on the previous one.

"Now, you mentioned before about how you can't remember past one year," He enquired, tone business like again, "So does that mean that what you have told me and others about your past, such as how you received your scars, is all a lie?"

"No. I don't remember my past _clearly._" The Joker explained, "Some days I remember my father as the one who did it, others it was me. It changes everyday, so I just… roll with it."

_For once we are really getting somewhere,_ the Doctor thought.

"That is very interesting" he stated while writing down more notes.

"So does that mean that the skills you have learnt, you only remember sometimes?" he asked, eager to understand.

"Oh no, I always remember skills," the Joker assured him, he was almost out of his hand cuff, "It's just how I learnt them that changes."

Finally, his hand was free.

"Like now, for instance, I remember a friend showing me how to slip out of handcuffs."

He stood up, hands raised. The Doctor was startled, but soon recovered, pushing the button on his desk that would call in the security. The Joker picked up a letter opener off a file cabinet and moved to stand over behind the door.

"And another friend, who did street fighting, showed me how to take out a security guard," he stated and with a few well aimed blows with the letter opener took down the two guards who ran into the room.

"Sorry I can't stay and chat any longer, but I have an asylum to escape from," his voice was back to its usual squeaky high pitch.

After taking the guard's guns he shot the clock off the wall, then ran out of the room and down the hallway.

Laughter echoed off the walls.

**hows that for an escape? he's not free yet though, he still has to actually get out of the building and off the island and then avoid the authorities... but that's another story... or... well, chapter really. **

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	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven. this may seem a little short and fast paced but that's how i intended it to be.**

**Disclaimer: i don't own the Dark Knight or The Joker. **

The Joker ran down the brightly lit hallway. He was almost free! But he needed to find a way to get out. He turned a corner and nearly ran into another doctor. She had her keys hanging from her neck. An idea came to the Joker's mind.

"If you don't mind, I would like to those keys please."

He pointed his gun towards the desired objects. The shaking doctor seemed reluctant but thought better of it, quickly taking them off and holding them out towards him.

"Thankyou," the Joker said as he took them off her.

He then continued on his way down the corridor, the doctor flattened herself against the wall as he passed then ran for her life. The Joker climbed a flight of stairs and came across a locked security gate.

The two guards on duty didn't see him coming. He shot them and unlocked the gate. Walking down the hall he stopped when he came across a cell. He unlocked it without looking inside and then continued to unlock the rest. The inmates all came out of their cells, some hesitantly, others eager to get out. The Joker reached the end of the hallway then turned around and headed back towards the stairs again.

The inmates he had just released were the highest priority in Arkham Asylum and included people such as Killer Croc and the Scarecrow.

Suddenly the alarms went off. _The Good Doctor must have done it_, the Joker thought. Upon hearing the alarm, the released inmates quickly scattered. Entering another hallway, the Joker opened another cell. The prisoner half walked, half ran out, then stood looking puzzled in front of the Joker.

"Now I want you to take this set of keys,"

He took the person's hand and placed the keys in it.

"And go and open every cell in this asylum. Can you do that?" he asked in his creepy voice that made his requests sound more like demands. The patient nodded vigorously then ran to the other cells. The Joker continued on his way.

...

Officer Stan was in the kitchen getting himself coffee when the alarms were sounded. There was a cook in the kitchen, and she looked at him anxiously.

"Stay here," he commanded, "and lock the doors."

The cook nodded in stunned silence, and Stan cautiously stepped out into the hall.

He walked down to the first room, an office and peered inside. It was empty. He continued on to the next office and opened the door. It was dark inside so he turned on the lights. He wish he hadn't though when he came face to face with a smiling man.

Except this man wasn't actually smiling.

...

Four guards were on duty in the control room. Or they were supposed to be. Looking at security cameras all day can get extremely boring. So the guards often played cards and gambolled to pass the time, occasionally glancing at the screens. They figured that if there was an escape then somebody in the halls or doing the inspection would notice and sound the alarms.

They were halfway through their third round of drinks when somebody believed that there was indeed an escaped prisoner and decided to sound the alarm. The guards hurriedly cleared up their game and drinks and then rushed to the security screens. They saw inmates everywhere.

How did that happen?

A few of the officers furiously barked orders into the desk microphones, ordering guards stationed at some points to assemble at others in order to form a barricade. Suddenly, the door to the control room slid open and an officer rushed in, quickly turning around to slide it shut again.

"What's going on?" he cried, his voice revealing his panic.

"The inmates have escaped," one of the officers curtly replied, "and we have to try to stop it."

"I would prefer that you didn't," the man's voice turned into a growl.

The officers, startled at this change in voice, all stared at the newcomer. He turned around and shot them. One officer who was still dieing stared up in horror at the man who had killed his comrades.

He was wearing a very large smile.

...

The Commissioner was looking forward to an ordinary day. As of late, there had been a surprisingly small amount of crime. Small for Gotham that is. The police force had received more funding and reinforcements only a few months ago and was now more effective than ever. That didn't mean that corruption in the force had ceased. There were still accusations against some members for using threats or taking bribes, but these had been thoroughly investigated and those found guilty were severely punished. Gordon leaned back. Yes, the corruption was getting less and less every day, and if the good work of the police was kept up then there was a very good chance that Gotham could become a utopia of sorts.

Suddenly, an officer known as Corporal Smith burst into the room, shattering Gordon's blissful reverie.

"Sir, come quick!" she practically shouted, "the Joker is on the phone."

_No!_ Gordon thought, _he couldn't be!_

He rushed out of his office and into communications. Many officers were crowded around a phone that had been put on loud speaker. They moved aside for him.

"You just missed it sir" a lieutenant told him in a stunned voice.

"What did he say, has he escaped?"

"He just called to say that he's back," the same lieutenant informed him.

"Right, I want every available police officer on patrol to head towards Arkham Asylum this instant," Gordon commanded, "and I want a few SWAT teams as back up in case this turns bad."

The crowd immediately got to work, turning the building into an ants nest of activity. Gordon quickly made a call to the mayor to tell him of the situation then headed out to Arkham himself.

On the way he sent a text to Batman, hoping that he still had his mobile with him.

...

The Joker opened the garage door. To his glee, the keys to the asylum cars had been kept in the guard house at the entrance. All he had to do now was find which keys fitted into which cars. After a few tries on the first car he gave up and then moved on to a van. The third key fitted and he immediately jumped in.

It was an alright van he supposed. He wasn't exactly good with distinguishing a good car from a bad one, but it didn't matter to him as long as it worked. Though he did find that some of the more expensive fast looking cars were a little harder to break into and hot wire than others.

He revved up the van and sped out of the garage, almost running over someone. He drove through the large gothic iron gates, he had opened them by pressing a few buttons up in the control room. It seemed the guards had enjoyed his jokes so much that when he left them they had great big smiles on their faces.

Night was falling and as he looked in his rear vision mirrors he could see the glow of Arkham Asylum going up in flames.

It was beautiful.

**How was that for an escape? **

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	8. Chapter 8

**chapter... 8? dammit i'm losing count already. hope you enjoy this chapter. i am actually quite amazed that there is only one line of dialogue in the whole thing!**

**Disclaimer: i don't own the dark knight or the joker**

Commissioner James Gordon inspected the barricades that had been set up on the bridge to restrict access to people trying to go out, as well as the numerous reporters who wanted to come in.

He made a mental list in his mind of the forces that he had dispatched. Five SWAT teams were on hand and ready to crush a riot if the former inmates of Arkham chose to cause such trouble. There were teams with police dogs patrolling the perimeter well as helicopters and boats to watch for anyone who decided to escape the island.

However, despite all of the security measures, there was still a chance that the Joker could have escaped, most probably before the police even had a chance to react after hearing of his freedom. Gordon had called his wife and told her to prepare the family to leave Gotham in the case that the Joker could not be found that night. The Joker was a very dangerous man, everyone knew that. And everyone prayed that he would be caught before he could cause any damage.

The Joker was a real enigma to Gordon. He couldn't begin to fathom why he wanted to cause so much pain, and he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that blowing up a building could cause many people to lose their lives. Gordon wasn't sure if the Joker saw people as important individuals, some of which had loving families, or as mere ants that he enjoys watching as they are burnt to death by the ray of concentrated sun from a magnifying glass. He hoped it was the latter, it was the only real explanation for someone so psychotic.

But the Joker did more than just kill many people. He turned them into animals, the panic he caused making their minds turn to a more primal state. He revealed how civilisation is only skin deep. How it is all so superficial. That didn't explain why he did it though.

Perhaps he didn't intend to reveal the triviality of human society, it may have just been an outcome, the cause being his simple wish to entertain himself through explosions.

Or it could be that he is an extremist form of the species know only to man as the Post Modernist, someone who constantly questioned their society and who often caused ripples throughout it. Gordon didn't have anything against them. Without the earlier versions there may have never been racial, religious or sexual equality.

He sighed, he may never know why the Joker did things. But that didn't matter anywhere near as much as his incarceration for the safety of the general public.

He turned around. Despite the danger, a very large throng of journalists had turned up at the scene. Now the journalist, Gordon thought, is a completely different species altogether, and probably the only one that doesn't have an inbuilt instinct for survival.

...

The media was having a field day. Again. Many journalists had fought over the opportunity to attend the scene and many were thanking their lucky stars that they had been given such an opportunity as well as hoping that they didn't screw it up.

Many international news channels were there among the locals. There was a cacophony of noise as each reporter strived to be heard through their microphones. The camera crews fought for a space that had a good view of the burning building off in the distance.

If someone were to step out of a sound proof car and into the midst of the crowd then they would run into a wall of noise, and probably give themselves a rather large headache in the process.

One reporter was bumped into by a photographer, so she gave him a shove that sent him flying into a group of other photographers. She hated it when she had to go out on assignments.

She didn't really mind the fact that the Joker had escaped, she didn't have any close family in the city to worry about and she was going to break up with her boyfriend as soon as he was no longer convenient. She could care for herself.

If anything, the Joker was probably a good thing. It was about time the police force did something and the media hadn't had anything really interesting to report on for a while now. This was real big news for the news channels of Gotham and if she did a real good job of reporting tonight then she might even get a promotion, and a raise.

Suddenly her mouth started to water.

In a way she was quite intrigued by the Joker. Like others of her profession, she wanted to know what he looked like without the face paint. But she wanted to know more.

She liked the way that the Joker put on a show. Now that was style in her opinion.

Finally her cameraman gave her a signal indicating that everything was ready. She quickly made a few adjustments to her already impeccable appearance and put on her trademark blank face, hiding her true feelings about the so-called tragedy that was happening behind her.

...

A woman who was busy making dinner was enjoying watching her favourite program when the news came on. She nearly dropped a jar of tomato paste because of the shock. The news was informing her that the madman known as the Joker had escaped.

"No! Not again! God please let them catch him," she prayed, "and soon!"

She had barely survived when the maniac had been running loose last time. She and her two children had been on one of the ferries that the Joker had threatened to blow up. She could never go on a boat again after that incident.

She looked at her children silently watching the television. She didn't know what she would do if they were… no. She couldn't bear to think of it again.

The whole family would have left the city last time, had it not been for the fact that her husband was a small store owner and they couldn't afford to move.

She glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven o'clock. He usually returned home about six thirty. She hoped that the delay was caused by traffic… and not some one.

She wasn't one of those people who often called for the execution of criminals, but she really wanted this psychotic clown to be executed. She couldn't understand why they didn't. He was getting away with committing such horrible atrocities because of some greedy lawyers who were using the insanity excuse. She just hated how people were so eager to declare him insane, when he was obviously a terrorist, and even terrorists who hadn't done anything near as bad as him were quickly executed.

She believed that the Joker should have been shot a long time ago for the safety of the law abiding citizens of America.

...

Bruce turned flopped down on his couch, a martini in his hand, and turned on his plasma television. He nearly choked on his drink when he heard what the news had to report.

The Joker had escaped.

Why now? He thought. Things had been going so perfect. He had come to believe that what he was doing was actually having an effect on people. And now the Joker was going to ruin it all.

Bruce was still puzzled as to why the Joker did what he did. He had said that he was trying to prove something, but the method that he used made no sense at all. Bruce had tried to understand the Joker, but soon came to the conclusion that his actions only made sense to himself. The Joker had his own form of logic.

The Joker had also made Batman the main reason for blowing things to pieces. At first he had seemed to be causing Batman trouble for the fun of causing Batman trouble, but then it seemed to have developed into an obsession.

Bruce had wondered many times what would've happened if he had just not come when the Joker had declared he was going to do something. But he knew that the Joker would have gone ahead with his plans anyway if only to spite him.

Bruce knew that he had a decision to make that could risk many people's lives. He had thought about the possibility of the Joker's escape and what he would do. But now that it had actually happened he was seeing less and less reason in his chosen plan of action. If he decided not to put the suit back on then the Joker could kill many people if only to get his attention, but if he did then the Joker would still know that he was active and would probably try to kill the same amount of people to provoke Batman into killing him and breaking his one rule.

Perhaps he could make a compromise. He wouldn't put the Batsuit on, except to tell the Commissioner of his plans, until it becomes obvious that the police can't take down the Joker by themselves.

Bruce sombrely sipped at his drink. Either way, he would be risking lives, he just hoped that his decision would lower the chance of casualties.

...

Switch had been in the underground working for mob bosses most of his life. But none of them had come close to the Joker in terms of utter terror. The Joker was a nightmare come true. And the nightmare had come back to haunt him again.

Watching the news out of no real interest for the happenings of Gotham, he had been horrified to learn of the clown's escape. He remembered the Joker, he remembered the Joker very well indeed.

Switch was so called because he was ambidextrous, and often switched his gun from hand to hand. He had been called that by fellow Hench men who he had worked with under the Chechen.

That was until his boss had been murdered and he was forced to work for the Joker. He really didn't want to repeat that experience. Especially since the boss he had now was actually quite fair. As fair as mob bosses can be that is.

His new boss was a real smart guy who'd risen through the Gotham underground like a… a… blimp in only two weeks. But just because the man, who went by the very ordinary name of Larry, was smart didn't mean that he wasn't going to make the same mistake as the Chechen once did.

Switch slowly climbed the stairs in the nightclub that was Larry's favourite place of leisure.

Switch wasn't very bright, but he wasn't too stupid to know that there was only one course of action that he could take. He would far rather warn his boss about the Joker than risk ending up with the clown again.

He tentatively knocked on the door.

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	9. Chapter 9

**arrrgh! i'm back at school! NOOO!! luckily i don't have any homework... yet. **

**disclaimer: i don't own the dark knight or the joker.**

The Joker ran the stolen van up onto the footpath. He was surprised that nobody had noticed his erratic driving, including a few police cars that went speeding past. He left the car and continued his journey on foot, crossing the street and entering a small alleyway. Nobody would notice the stolen van in this part of town.

Once highly glamorous in the twenties, the trendy suburb had fallen into decay as the rich inhabitants moved to more prestigious parts as the city expanded. It was now home to drunks and homeless and anyone who didn't belong in "normal" society.

Coming out on the other side of the alley, the Joker found himself on a fairly large yet potholed street. In front of him loomed a once proud and very popular theatre which had created stars on its strong wooden stage, but was now dilapidated and abandoned.

The front was boarded up, the Joker didn't give it a second glance. Instead he strolled to the alley behind it and after removing a few cardboard boxes finally located the back door. It wasn't locked, there would have been no point anyway, a good kick could have easily forced open the rotting door.

He silently walked along the short hall and down a flight of stairs, coming to a halt before one of the dressing rooms.

He had known about the theatre for a very long time. He had faint memories of going down into the abandoned building as a child, but couldn't for the life of him remember what he actually did in the place.

He turned the dusty handle and opened the door, accompanied by a groan from the rusting hinges. Inside was a typical generic dressing room, except that it had the musty smell of decay. It was also dark, the lights around the mirror having blown a long time ago. The Joker fumbled for the lamp on the vanity, the soft glow illuminated the room, revealing a wardrobe as part of the little amount of furnishings. The Joker softly padded over and opened the doors, half expecting a squeak as he did so. Inside were a variety of suits, roughly half of which were a bright shade of purple.

He had in recent years, come to use the theatre as a lair of sorts and kept his weapons and suits stashed away here, content in the knowledge that it was highly unlikely that anyone would stumble upon them. He didn't actually make his bombs or bring prisoners down here, an unused cellar underneath a public shopping centre was used for that purpose.

He selected a purple suit off the rack at random and inspected it. It was in excellent condition, he hadn't worn this one before. Never matter, it would soon be covered in rips, burns and various other stains. He set it down over the back of the chair while he took off the plain white clothes of Arkham Asylum, they really seemed to have an obsession with white.

After quickly painting his face and locating a pair of shoes he admired himself in the mirror, adjusting bits here and there. Then as though remembering a chocolate bar in the fridge he opened a drawer in the vanity. Inside, gleaming as though it had just been polished, lay his gun.

But not just any gun. This one had been made by him personally, and was built exactly for him and his sense of humour.

...

Larry considered the warning from the man, called Stitch?

He had never known any of his hired muscle to approach him. He was the one who usually did the approaching. But that man had actually come all the way up to caution him, in a stuttering voice, about the Joker.

He had actually _warned_ him.

The way the man spoke, it showed he was scared of Larry as his boss, but it also seemed like he was more anxious about Larry believing him and taking his advice. Larry knew that if it had been a trivial matter then the man wouldn't have bothered.

If a lowly henchman would much rather dare to warn his mob boss and possibly have said employer's fury unleased upon him, as opposed to having to endure the possibility of meeting the Joker again, then the Joker must be, by Larry's reasoning, one freaky guy, or else the man just had a phobia of clowns.

Larry didn't know much about the Joker, he had heard of his crazy antics and the stories that he had over heard his workers telling to each other. He decided that perhaps it would be a good idea to observe the madman's movements and keep a good distance…

...for the time being.

...

The police had been searching for a whole week for the Joker but had come up with nothing, not even a witness. They had however caught many of the former inmates, however a few of the most wanted such as the scarecrow were still at large.

The Joker was at the top of that list.

The media were still discussing the escape of the Joker but had nothing new to report about him, they were quite content however to report on the capture of well known lunatics for the time being.

The citizens of Gotham knew better than to hope that the Joker had left and were expecting a large surprise any minute. The tension and suspense alone was enough to drive some of the more privileged to pack up and leave for a less morbid city.

...

Gordon sat alone on a roof top. The bat signal was no longer used in case some one decided to investigate or set a trap, instead he was forced to rely on a mobile phone to summon the masked vigilante.

He heard the crunch of feet on the gravel and turned around as Batman stepped out of the shadows.

"I'm glad you came," Gordon stated, "I didn't see you at Arkham, but I'm sure you know all about the Joker's escape."

Batman spoke in his usual gravely voice, "I came to offer help, but only to capture the Joker and only it you want it."

"We've been searching for the Joker high and low, but haven't found a trace of him," Gordon said, exasperated, "it's like he just dropped off the face of the planet. So if you can do anything at all to help us, even find any clues as to his whereabouts then it would be greatly appreciated."

"It's most likely that the Joker is getting back his bearings and re-establishing his place with the mobsters." Batman suggested, "He would probably be in a hideout, you might find some trace of him around abandoned warehouses in downtown."

Gordon nodded and hummed in agreement. He turned and placed his hands on the edge of the building, looking out over the river, the lights of the city reflected by its still, mirror-like waters.

"Perhaps he's decided not to blow things up, because he doesn't want to go back to jail," Gordon though out loud, "perhaps he's even learned that what he did was wrong, and not as fun as he seemed to think it was."

Batman had turned to look out across the water as well.

"If I understand the Joker correctly," he said, "then that would not be the case. I have a gut feeling that he is planning something, and the more time he gets the bigger it is likely to be."

"It would seem too good to be true if the Joker had just decided to leave," Gordon said wearily, "the city knows this and is bracing itself for the onslaught. But hopefully we can get to him before he gets the chance."

Gordon turned around only to find himself alone. He silently wished the man the best of luck and hoped that he wouldn't be hampered in his progress of capturing the lunatic and saving the city.

He turned around again to gaze at the beautiful view.

**HE HE HE i something planned for chapter 10 that i really look forward to writing. hopefully i will be able to get it up in a few days.**

**review and you will get moist delicious cake!**

**just ask the few other people who were willing to give up just a few seconds of their time. (sends everyone on a guilt trip)**


	10. Chapter 10

**chapter 10! hope you like this one!**

**disclaimer: this hasn't changed, i still don't own the dark kenigget, or the jokerrrrr.**

The Joker guided the truck through an intersection. It was a nice day, you didn't get many sunny days in Gotham. He turned a corner. A few more streets and he will have reached his destination.

The Joker had spent a long time planning this. One whole minute in fact. He had been pacing around in his room trying to think of a way that would grab the city's attention, celebrate his freedom and cause a large amount of confusion.

Many people would be involved. All he would have to do was start it and it would continue like a line of dominoes. He hypothesised that those who would get the most caught up in it would be the young and carefree. It would be hilarious to watch, he hoped that they would all see the fun in it as well. The best thing about it is that it would be so unexpected, Gotham wouldn't know what hit it.

He was forced to go undercover for this to work, having to take off his face paint and wear a silly pair of jeans and a plain looking t-shirt.

Finally he reached his chosen destination and parked the small truck. The other truck quickly did a U turn and parked on the other side of the street, a discrete white car in front of it. A dark green sedan parked in front of the Joker's truck. A few men exited the cars and opened the back of the trucks.

The Joker waited patiently as they unloaded some of the precious cargo, leaving two small piles, one on each footpath. One of the men set up a small stall to "sell" the goods. Once all was completed, all the men except for the salesman got in a car and drove off.

The salesman came up to the Joker's window and tapped on it, signalling that all was ready. He eagerly hoped out and moved to the back of the truck.

Inside were custard pies.

He picked one up and stuck his finger in the cream then licked it off. It tasted quite nice really, such a shame to be wasting it, but alas it would have to be sacrificed for the greater good.

The Joker cast his gaze around the street. There was a café with a few people eating outside and enjoying the sunshine, a couple walking down the street, a few boys walking up it, and on the other side was a large group of punk teenagers hanging out on the stairs of an apartment building. It was a rather quiet street, small and lined by a whole lot of apartment buildings and a happy little café.

He observed the boys as they stopped to look at the pies the salesman was selling. The Joker selected a target, took careful aim and then hurled the pie at the head of a young teenager who was hanging with the punks on the steps. He watched as the pie flew straight and true and then quickly ducked behind the truck before anyone could see him.

The punks burst into laughter and the teenager turned in rage to see who was the culprit. He eyed the boys at the pie stand and came to the obvious conclusion. He strode towards one of the open trucks, which had been left unattended in Gotham the Crime Capital of America, and picked up a pie. Face contorted by the sweet idea of revenge he approached the unsuspecting boys.

One of the boys turned around and promptly got a face full of pie. Another boy quickly came to the aid of his beleaguered friend and shoved a pie in the teenager's face. The pie seller quickly moved away to the safety of his car, knowing all too well how these things tended to escalate.

The punks joined in and threw a volley of pies at the boys, who took cover behind the pie cart and threw pies back. Some of the people dining at the café were caught up in the war as they were hit by wayward pies.

An elderly lady walking out of her apartment building was temporarily stunned by the spectacle. She hesitated for a moment then, after reasoning that you only live once, hurried to the back of one of the trucks to grab a pie.

Other people from the apartments ran down to join in, as well as other people who happened to be passing by. The street was turning white with all the mess from the pies and it looked at though a very small but thick blizzard was happening. There were shrieks of delight and laughter as people scored direct hits. Many bystanders were filming the rare occurrence, most on their phones.

The Joker, who had sat in the truck to watch as his plan unfolded, decided that it would be a good idea to leave. He jumped out and made a quick dash to the car in front, getting into the passenger seat. The pie seller was waiting for him and as soon as he had closed the door sped off.

...

As soon as the media got word of the pie fight they sent agents down there quick smart.

On the news an old lady was being interviewed. She was covered head to toe in white cream and her eyes were shining from the excitement. She talked about how it was all just like in the funny movies in the old days. Video footage that had been recorded by some bystanders was also shown.

Gotham was starting to get a strange international reputation.

...

A few days after the notorious pie fight, Gordon was sitting at his desk determined to get through at least half of his mountain of paper work by lunch. It had just been increased yesterday after a terrifying discovery.

He had been sitting at his desk contentedly sipping his coffee, when in barged Sergeant Anna Mull. She quickly cut to the reason why she broke and entered his office, urgently telling him that the Joker started the pie fight. After calming down a little, she told him that her uncle had recorded the fight from one of the apartment buildings and had become slightly suspicious when he saw the driver of one of the trucks dash into another car and speed off. On closer inspection he had discovered that the man had scars that started at the corners of his mouth and went up his cheeks. He had called her right away and then she had brought the recording into show Gordon.

He had immediately sent out a public announcement that requested everyone involved in the "Great Pie Fight" to come straight to Gotham General Hospital to be checked out. He had informed the public that it was very likely that the Joker was responsible for starting it as well as supplying the large amount of custard pies.

He had also organised for the Sergeant's uncle to come in for an interview earlier today, which he now thought was a bit of a waste of time as he hadn't learnt anything new.

...

Sergeant Anna Mull stepped out of the lift onto the fourth floor of the apartment building, and then proceeded down the hallway. She briskly knocked on a door at the end, which was opened after only a few moments. She kissed cheeks with the old man and was ushered inside.

"I just came to congratulate you on spotting the Joker," she said cheerfully.

"Well, you know, just doing my duty as a responsible citizen and witness," he said a little embarrassed.

"Oh you're just being modest," she stated, "besides, you could have saved many people's lives."

"So what about the people? Were they hurt or poisoned?" he asked, concern layering his voice.

"No, no one was poisoned or suffered from radiation exposure and there were no unusual chemicals in their systems."

"What? So the Joker didn't do anything to the pies?"

"Not as far as we know."

Her uncle thought about this. He was glad to hear of such good news, but it only left a large and confusing mystery.

"We interviewed the people involved but they hadn't noticed anything suspicious and we couldn't find out who owned the trucks either," she said miserably, "it doesn't make sense. Why would the Joker go to all that trouble?"

"Perhaps, it was a distraction," he suggested, "or it could be that he's announcing he's back."

They stood in the middle of the room, feeling confused and frustrated, which more or less mirrored the way the city was feeling.

**yeah, how was that for a pie fight... i want some custard pie now.**

**review and you will get moist delicious cake.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter eleven. I have planned the next ten chapters so the next chapter of this should be up in a few days, depending on homework.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker and I if anyone happens to have a name that is the same as characters in here then please note that this is pure coincidence and I chose them because they are on my list of funny fake names.**

The main street was quiet. No traffic travelled along it. The Joker stood in the middle of the road, his breath turning to mist in the frigid night air. He could just make out one of the road blocks at the end of the street, the periodic flashing from the headlights of passing cars and dim glow from the street lights highlighting where the barriers should be.

Car horns and the noise of traffic echoed in the deserted street, as well as the sound of heavy oil barrels that a team of men were attempting to unload quietly. The Joker played with a set of keys, twirling them on his finger as he waited for his lackeys to finish.

One man was leaning against the street sweeper, the only other vehicle in the street, and lighting his cigarette. The Joker sauntered over and threw the man's cigarette on the ground, crushing it underfoot. The man froze in terror, but the Joker only turned away.

The men finished unloading and the Joker gave them a nod to signal that they should continue on to the next phase of the plan. The men opened the barrels and then lowered them carefully on their sides causing thick liquid to spill onto the road.

He climbed up onto the street sweeper and put the key into the ignition.

…

The news reporter had gotten her promotion and was now reporting from the studio. She shuffled her papers and waited for the camera man to finish his countdown.

"Good morning, I'm Faye Slift and you're watching Gotham News.

Early this morning Lincoln Street was found to be a lot more colourful than usual, with the road and pavement painted purple and green. Many speculate that the Joker is responsible as he often wears a purple and green suit.

It is unknown how he was able to coat the entire street with a layer of paint in one night but police are investigating the scene and will hopefully find clues that could lead them to the Joker's current hideout.

The road, which was painted a bright purple, also had Joker cards glued to its surface where the white lines originally would have been.

There were a few eyewitnesses who said that they saw the street being closed off at both ends by men in police uniform, but said that they didn't think much of the unusual occurrence. The police have issued a message to the citizens of Gotham requesting that they keep a look out for anything unusual and would like people to call the police department if they see any strange activity.

In other news, the first Australian female Prime Minister has been sworn in today…"

…

The commissioner made his way through the large crowd that had gathered and climbed over the police barrier that had been set up at the end of Lincoln Street.

He had expected the paint to be still wet but to his surprise it was dry when he bent down to touch it. The street hadn't been painted evenly, brush strokes and bubbles could be seen and in some places the black bitumen was visible.

The commissioner walked over to the senior detective who was standing near a street sweeper that had been run onto the footpath.

"What's all this then? Incorrectly parked vehicle? Obstruction of a public walkway with an unregistered vehicle?" Gordon joked.

"Morning sir, you can add graffiti to that list of crimes," the detective replied, looking down at the road.

"Have you found any clues?" Gordon asked.

"None sir, but I have come to conclusions about how he managed to paint the whole street in one night."

"Indeed?"

"Yes, I believe that, after hearing reports from eyewitnesses, the Joker had hired help that he had dress up as police officers and block off both ends of the street. He then had them unload a few barrels from a truck, you can see marks in the paint, they probably spilled the paint on the ground and by the looks of it spread it around using brooms and this street sweeper here. The man on the sweeper then got out and put joker cards where the white lines would have been originally, you can see his footprints here," he explained and pointed towards a set of footprints that headed away from the street sweeper.

"That is a very good explanation as to how it was done and it is quite obvious who did it," Gordon said, "but do you have any idea why?"

The detective shook his head.

"Unfortunately no, we haven't found anything suspicious but tests are being carried out as we speak to see if there are any harmful chemicals contained in the paint," he informed, "as for the motivation behind spending a whole night painting a street rather badly, well you'll have to ask a psychiatrist, because I have no idea apart from the fact that the Joker is insane and this all probably makes sense in his mind."

Gordon nodded and wrote some notes in his note pad that he had pulled out of his pocket.

"Um, commissioner, sir?" another younger detective hesitantly tried to get his attention.

"Yes?" Gordon said.

"Well, about the street sir, there's a lot of paint sir, and… we don't have to clean it up do we?"

Gordon looked up at the young man and then noticed his colleges sniggering behind his back, they probably told him that the police would have the job of cleaning up the street, and by the look of worry on his face the man believed them.

"No," he assured the now visibly relieved man, "not unless it's toxic."

He walked to the middle of the street where the joker cards were glued in a line. Joker cards had also been found in a few of the custard pies that had been taken for testing.

He's probably trying to prove something, he thought. No normal person would spend their whole night painting an entire street just because they thought that a bit of colour would look nice.

But then again, this was the Joker and it had been proven by quite a few psychiatrists that he was not on the same wave length as other people. But Gordon had met him and he had come to believe that the Joker did have a purpose, it just wasn't the same type of purpose that other people would have.

He might be sending a message to everyone showing them that he could do whatever he pleased.

Or he might actually believe that the city was too dull and needed to be brightened up a bit with a few licks of paint and a food fight or two.

Or it might even hold a more sinister purpose, such as getting people used to random things happening and making them become less cautious, so that if one day he decides to poison the custard pies a larger amount of people could be harmed.

It was like the method of poisoning rabbits that an Australian sergeant was telling him about one time. A carrot would be placed next to a burrow for the rabbits to eat, next day another so that the rabbits would become used to the random appearance of nice tasting food, the third day a carrot that had been poisoned with 10/80 would be placed at the burrow and the rabbits would happily eat it without any suspicions whatsoever.

Gordon really hoped that it wouldn't happen like that.

He prayed that he was being over cautious, that the Joker had decided to become nothing more than an artist.

**He he he, I have a very farfetched dream to become the first female Australian prime minister.**

**Btw 10/80 is what farmers call (myximatosis), I don't really know how it's spelled.**

**Review and you will get moist delicious cake or custard pie or lemon flavoured with cheese cream frosting. Please specify in your review if you would like any other cake apart from the original, home baked, special, unlimited, not going stale very quickly, poison free, moist delicious cake. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter twelve. Due to homework and school assignments etc I will only be updating every weekend. **

**I'd just like to say thankyou to those people who have been reviewing me and encouraging me to write (they know who they are). I know that if it wasn't for them I would have quit writing long ago.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry the relatively friendly mob boss (as friendly as mob bosses get) is mine.**

Larry waited in his SUV outside a warehouse at the docks. The sun was beginning to set and he admired the way it reflected off the shimmering waters of the river.

He didn't expect the man, who would buy his drugs, to come for another hour at least. But that he didn't mind waiting, it allowed him to get things organised. His workers were busy opening the crates inside the warehouses and uncovering the hidden ecstasy.

Larry turned on the car's television and clicked through the channels until he found the news. He was greeted with the image of a purple and green painted street and the sound of the reporter proclaiming that it was the work of the Joker.

Larry thought back to the pie fight that the Joker had also apparently staged and he wondered, _what is _with _this guy?_ Many people had been saying that the Joker was as sadistic as hell and everyone said that he would kill you as soon as look at you.

Larry had heard all the stories but now he was starting to believe that they had all been blown out of proportion, because as far as Larry was concerned the Joker seemed to have lost his edge. Perhaps the people in Arkham Asylum had been close to curing him before he escaped so that now he was only half mad.

A few taps on the window interrupted his thoughts. One of his workers stood fidgeting nervously as the dark tinted window smoothly slid down.

"Sir, um, you'd better come see this," he said.

Larry knew something bad had happened but he didn't bother asking what it was, he'd find out soon enough. The man led him and his two large bodyguards through the warehouse to the back wall. It was bare, or would have been if it wasn't for two round black circles and a wobbly red curved line underneath them.

Suddenly a shout of surprise was heard from upstairs. Larry and his two bodyguards hastily climbed up the stairs and opened the door to the office at the top.

Inside they found the walls covered top to bottom in messy red writing. In the centre of the dimly lit room was an old armchair, one of Larry's bodyguards stepped forward and turned it around to find the dead body of one of Larry's hired help. Blood covered the corpse and the fatal wound to his neck could be plainly seen, as well as a cut on each cheek that gave the illusion of a manic grin.

The bodyguard behind Larry cried out in surprise and horror. When he turned to see the cause he was not surprised. The Joker held a knife to his bodyguard's neck and was smiling at him.

"Now that I have your attention," he said in a rather high pitched, squeaky voice.

Larry had expected a sort of wolfish growl and was caught completely off guard by the sound, but he recovered quickly.

"So you are the famous Joker that I have been hearing so much about," Larry said slightly sarcastically.

"I prefer infamous," the Joker countered.

"And I would prefer you not to kill my workers," he said smoothly.

The Joker pulled away from the now profusely sweating man and skipped over to the armchair.

"So why are you here? To buy my drugs?" Larry said sarcastically.

"Buy?" the Joker seemed surprised, "why would I buy your drugs?"

"Then why are you here?" Larry asked, getting slightly annoyed.

"Well, a little birdie, told me, that you were the new top dog in town," the Joker stated while moving the corpse's mouth, "so I thought that I might like to meet this new dog and see who he is."

"I would have to say I thought the same about you," Larry said icily.

"Well then isn't that convenient," the Joker said happily.

"Very. Now I understand that you once did a favour or two for… who was it, Maroni?"

"They wanted me to kill the Batman but I killed the contract."

"The Batman would have been a piece of work I'm sure. Mr Joker, I also have someone who causes me trouble and I would really like to meet them personally to, sort things out," said Larry, always ready to grab an opportunity.

"Would I be right to assume that you would want this certain person alive?" asked the Joker.

"And relatively unharmed. You could earn a large amount of money, if you accepted this small offer of, entertainment," said Larry.

"How much are we talking here?" asked the Joker.

"Twenty million, half now, half when you bring him," Larry answered.

"Alive?" the Joker questioned again, he seemed hopeful that the answer might be 'no'.

"It would be much preferred," Larry stated, he wasn't in the mood to play games.

"You can keep the other half of your money, instead I want petrol, or diesel I'm not picky, and weapons," the Joker demanded.

"Are you sure, you don't even know who you're supposed to kidnap," Larry said a little surprised.

"Well judging by the amount of money you've put on his head he sounds like a tough cookie," the Joker said gleefully.

"I am assuming that you believe the excitement would be a far better reward."

"Correct. Now you gonna tell me who I'm after or are we just going to stand here chatting?"

Larry smiled. The Joker was unpredictable, but employing the use of his special talents had been far easier than he'd imagined. Now all he had to do was watch his back. He thought of the stories about what the Joker was capable of and came to the conclusion that this new mutual contract could be very profitable indeed.

**Review**** and you will get moist delicious cake or any other cake of your choice.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen. Annoyingly, I had written about a third of this when my computer decided to restart, luckily though I have auto save so I only had to rewrite a sentence or two. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry and Doctor Dunn and Switch are mine. This is fanfiction so I don't mind if you use them, just acknowledge it as my idea.**

The more dangerous inmates of Arkham Asylum had been relocated to a wing in the high security prison of Williamstown, an eastern suburb of Gotham. Among them were Killer Croc, Twoface and the Scarecrow. The atmosphere had been one of expectation, and fear.

They all had come to accept their fate. They wouldn't survive the night.

…

The Joker let out a small chuckle as he finished wiring up the barrels of oil. He heard a noise behind him, the sound of a trouser leg brushing against the other.

He spun to face the intruder, pulling out his gun as he went, and found Doctor Dunn stepping out of the shadows near the stairs of the underground bunker. He held his hands up in a gesture meant to calm down the situation. The Joker cocked his head to the side and smiled.

"Now how did you know I was down here?" he asked.

"I saw a janitor I didn't know come down here, so I followed," the doctor replied calmly.

The Joker grinned as the doctor continued.

"Things don't always have to be like this you know," he persuaded, "you don't have to kill people, you can stop anytime you like. If you'd just give me a chance then I could help you, I could cure you and you could live a normal life."

The Joker watched the doctor take a few slow steps forward.

"No thankyou," he said in his typical happy voice.

"Why?" the doctor asked, unable to comprehend.

"Well you see, I couldn't live a normal life now even if I wanted to, because a lot of people want me dead and there is nothing you could do to make them think I'm all nice and happy now," the Joker reasoned, "Anyway, sanity is over rated. If people could make an informed choice then they would cut the thread of sanity that they cling to."

The Joker watched the doctor take a few more slow steps. _Just a little further_, he thought.

"And who said insanity is a disease anyway?" he continued, "it's just a different, and in my opinion, better way of looking at the world."

The doctor had reached a spot where there was a concentration of cracks.

"Any way guess what," the Joker said and looked up.

"What?" the doctor asked, following the Joker's gaze.

"You're dead!" the Joker said and pressed a button on his remote control detonator.

He watched as an anvil was dropped from the roof, crushing Doctor Dunn who only had time to stare in horror at his doom. The Joker giggled as blood and various other body fluids splattered over the barrels and his janitor's suit.

"Damn, look at all this mess," the Joker said sarcastically then giggled again, "Looks like a job for the janitor."

He climbed up the stairs.

"Or I could save him the trouble and just blow it sky high!"

The Joker crept out into the hall, then ran back down the stairs to one of the barrels.

"Oops! Nearly took the wrong one!" he said and picked up the remote control detonator on the barrel, replacing it with the other identical one that had been used to drop the anvil.

…

The police had been prepared for an occasion such as this. But even preparation cannot stop a flurry of activity from turning the station into a homo sapien beehive. Most of the leaving constables were heading towards the latest scene of disaster, the explosion at the high security prison in Williamstown.

Gordon was heading towards the door to go with them but was pulled aside by the newly promoted Captain Hawthorne.

"Sir, could you spare about ten minutes?" he asked.

"Well I don't really need to go see the situation," Gordon reasoned, "sure Nigel, what is it?"

"There is a man in the interrogation room I need you to see, he says he has information on the Joker."

Gordon's ears almost literally perked up at the presence of 'Joker' and 'information' in the same sentence. He hurried after the Captain into the interrogation room. The Captain informed him before they entered that the man had given himself up voluntarily.

He entered and found a beefy man with tattoos on both arms, a crooked nose and a shaven bald head and knew immediately that he was a mobster, possibly hired help he supposed, because of the absence of jewellery. Gordon sat down across from the man while the Captain stood by the door.

"Good afternoon, would you be able to give me your name?" he asked.

"Most people call me Switch," the man said after a moment's hesitation.

"Alright Switch, I understand that you say you have information on the Joker."

"Yes, but I'm not telling you nothing until you agree to protect me," he said.

The threat was a hollow one, if the man was pressured then he would tell regardless of any promise of protection. But Gordon was a good cop and he knew that the man was taking a very large risk coming here.

"We can keep you in protective custody if you request it," he replied.

"No I don't wanna to stay here, I just wanna make sure that you ain't gonna tell anybody it was me that was the squealer," he said.

"Okay, we'll censor your face and disguise your voice," Gordon agreed.

"And cut that bit where I tell you my name," Switch added.

Gordon nodded. The man was sweating and fidgeting nervously, which was to be expected and he wanted to make certain that he wasn't going to be in anyone's bad books.

"Please, any information you have about the Joker could be extremely useful in assisting in his capture," Gordon insisted.

"Well, you see, I work for a guy, he calls himself Larry, nice guy, for a mob boss that is, but you see, he made a deal with that mad dog Joker, and I seen the Joker before, I had to work for him once, he killed my first boss the Chechen," Switch stuttered.

"Did you find out what Larry wanted the Joker to do?" Gordon asked.

"Yeah," Switch replied while nodding, "he wants the Joker to go and get him Bruce Wayne."

…

Commissioner James Gordon turned around when he heard the crunch of gravel. The Batman stepped out of the shadows and went to stand by the edge of the roof.

"The Joker caused the explosion," the Batman growled, and handed Gordon a slightly burnt joker card.

"I suspected as much," Gordon sighed, "but why would he kill his own?"

"He may have seen them as competition and wanted them out of the picture," the Batman suggested.

"I doubt that he was trying to help them escape, he would have just needed to open their doors," Gordon reasoned, "perhaps he just didn't like them."

"Who can begin to understand the logic in a mind such as his," Batman stated.

"Many would have burned to death if they hadn't of died immediately in the explosion, it is extremely unlikely that anyone survived," Gordon stated, "We have a lead on him though."

The Batman turned to look at him in expectation.

"A man came in today and informed us about a deal between the Joker and his boss, Larry," Gordon continued, "apparently Larry wants the Joker to kidnap Bruce Wayne."

"Does he know?" asked the Batman, he already knew the answer.

"Yes, we asked him some questions about Larry to try and find out why Larry wants him. Apparently Mr Wayne and Larry knew each other, though he wasn't very specific as to where from."

"Do you think that the explosion is related to his plans to kidnap Wayne?"

"No, I think that it's just the Joker having a bit of fun," Gordon said, "Mr Wayne was actually quite insistent on acting as bait and wearing a tracking device, he's currently at home."

Batman admired the dramatic irony in that statement, he had actually given the device to his butler Alfred.

"We tried to convince him out of it," Gordon continued, "this could become a messy hostage situation and unfortunately with the Joker you can't just talk him out of it."

"I think it would be a good idea to track Larry down and take him out of the picture, for his own safety as well as that of others," Batman suggested, "he's given the Joker an objective, and knowing the Joker he won't stop for anything to complete it. I can try and track down Larry, that way you can concentrate on Wayne."

Gordon nodded.

"I have ordered a SWAT team to go through extra training and preparation for a hostage situation," he informed, "hopefully we can capture the Joker before he does Bruce Wayne."

Gordon turned around to find that he was alone on the roof top.

**Review**** and you will get moist delicious cake or any other cake of your choice.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen. Things are starting to get interesting.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry is mine. **

Larry relaxed in the backseat of his limousine and patted his dog Lawson while he waited. Lawson wasn't a rare dog. In fact he was a common mut that he had virtually picked up off the street. Larry felt that the dog was like him in a way.

He had had a tough childhood, growing up in the slums, but due to a cunning personality he was able to carve a fortune and create a better life for himself.

The dog reflected that. It was smart and street wise and Larry had seen it come away from a fight with two other bigger dogs with only a few scratches. Though it only sometimes did what he commanded, it was a very loyal and good guard dog. Larry was certain that he would far prefer to have a smart, loyal mut like Lawson, than have a rare, expensive, high maintenance, stupid, pure breed. He had named the dog Lawson after the street where he had found it.

Finally, the door opened and a short man wearing a dark coat stepped in and sat across from him. Lawson growled at the intruder who looked at the dog with apprehension. Larry stroked Lawson's head. He knew the man, he was one of the few corrupt cops left that would happily pass on information for money, and he was a captain.

"What do they know about me," Larry enquired.

The man got comfortable.

"They found out off some guy who squealed that you're connected with the Joker," he replied.

"Who's the squealer?"

"Don't know, they erased that bit of the tape and won't tell any one," he said, "They know that there are some guys like me still in the force."

"How much did he tell them?" asked Larry.

"He told them that you got the Joker to go after Wayne."

Larry thought about that piece of information. The man waited for him to continue.

"Are you gonna call off the kidnapping?" he asked after a few moments.

"Why would I tell you," Larry said, the golden rule when it came to talking to informants is to not tell them _anything_ of your plans.

"No need to get your knickers in a knot, I was only curious," he responded quickly.

"Anything else?" Larry said haughtily.

"Wayne knows that he might be kidnapped, I think he wants to act as bait for the Joker," the man said with a smile.

"This could be very interesting," Larry mused, "is that all?"

"Yeah, that's all I got," the man said. He watched greedily as Larry pulled out a wad of money from his pocket.

"Nice doing business with you," he said and with one more glance at Lawson stepped out of the limo.

Larry thought about the new turn of events. If the Joker was captured then he would be out of the picture and Larry wouldn't have to worry about him any more, but he wouldn't get Wayne. That wouldn't matter. He could wait to hire someone else, he was a very patient man.

If the Joker escaped the police and found out about their trap, then Larry could pretend to know nothing about it and send him on some other interesting task. If the Joker found out before he tried to kidnap Wayne and then decided to have a little chat with Larry, then again he could pretend that he knew nothing about it.

In the case that the Joker did succeed then he would have Bruce Wayne out of the picture and, unbeknownst to the Joker, Batman as well.

It would be killing two birds, or bats, with one stone.

Then he could occupy the Joker's time with a few more dangerous tasks. Whatever happened, Larry was determined to get the best hand, just so long as he could keep sight of the big picture.

...

Bruce Wayne was out at a nightclub, dancing with some hot chicks and enjoying the party life. After some time, he grew thirsty and decided to get a drink at the bar. He ordered two martinis, one for the nice lady next to him that he started to flirt with.

After the second round of drinks he began to feel drowsy and knew that his drink had been spiked. He looked for the barman but he had gone. He excused himself from the bar, the woman was rather disappointed to see him go but soon turned to flirt with the man on her other side.

He made his way towards the entrance where his bodyguards had been stationed. As he neared them his steps grew heavy and he began to stumble like a drunk. He noticed that his bodyguards looked different.

Weren't they bigger?

He tripped and fell forward but they caught him and took him out the back exit into the alley. A car was parked a few feet away and there were a few men standing around it.

Suddenly Bruce came to the realisation that he was being kidnapped! But what happened to his bodyguards and the undercover police who were shadowing him? His mind was growing foggy and he struggled to remain conscious.

The two men masquerading as his body guards shoved him into the backseat of a dark green, land cruiser. He turned his head and was just able to make out a white face with a large red smile, and before he fell into unconsciousness he was dimly aware that he had come face to face with the Joker.

...

The news reporter introduced herself and began reporting on the top story for the morning.

"Billionaire play boy Bruce Wayne has been kidnapped by the Joker.

He had been last seen in the famous 'Pulse Nightclub' which was where his two bodyguards and a few undercover police were found dead in the toilets. Another man was also found with a spear, with the word 'Bang' on a flag, through his chest, he has yet to be identified.

It is known that the Joker is responsible for their deaths, as a Joker card was found at the scene of the crime. It is alleged that he also abducted Bruce Wayne, although it is unknown why, the police knew of the Joker's intentions to do so.

When asked about the kidnapping by our reporters, Commissioner James Gordon had this to say."

The television screen cut to a scene of the commissioner in front of a podium outside the police department addressing a crowd of hands holding microphones. He looked exhausted.

"We had received information of the Joker's intentions to kidnap Bruce Wayne, and he had been warned almost immediately. Though it was his choice to act as bait for the Joker in the hope of capturing him.

Unfortunately the Joker seems to have known of the security that had been placed on Mr Wayne and subsequently murdered six undercover detectives as well as Mr Wayne's two body guards. A man who has not yet been identified but who we believe had been a witness was also found at the scene of the murders."

The screen returned back to the news room and the reporter continued.

"This very moment the police are tracking the Joker down and hope to rescue Bruce Wayne before the Joker has a chance to inflict any harm."

Alfred sadly turned off the television. He was an old man and had known Bruce since he was born. He never thought that one day he might expect to see his funeral.

He slowly wiped the coffee table, taking care not to remove the coffee stain.

**Review**** and you will get moist delicious cake or any other cake of your choice.**

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**Is it only Australia that has an obsession with meat pies? According to my friend other countries such as America have only ever heard of meat pies from Sweeney Todd. Does Britain eat them as well?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter fifteen. The Joker meets Bruce.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry is mine. **

Bruce Wayne opened his eyes and looked around. He seemed to be in an underground car park somewhere. He couldn't see how big it was. Only the light above him was lit, illuminating a roughly five metre wide circle around his chair.

He tried to move his arms but found them bound to the chair by the wrists. His legs were the same. He hadn't expected anything less.

He turned his head around to try to see if there was anything behind him. There was a flat concrete wall on which was painted a large grotesque smiley in what looked to be tomato sauce. Smelled like tomato sauce as well.

He turned back around and would have jumped right out of his skin if he hadn't of been tied to a chair. The Joker's face was no more than a foot away from Bruce's and he burst into hyena like laughter at Bruce's expression of surprise. Bruce stayed quiet, waiting for the Joker's next move. Eventually he stopped giggling.

"Why aren't you laughing?" he asked in what seemed like an accusing tone.

"I don't see what's so funny," Bruce retorted.

"Your expression," the Joker said and burst into another fit of giggles. "You… should've… seen it," he managed to get out.

Bruce just looked at him and waited.

"Well of course you couldn't a seen it," the Joker said after realisation dawned upon him, "you can't see your own face."

He sat down on the concrete and crossed his legs.

"Ah, Brucey, Brucey, Brucey… hows life?"

After a brief moment's hesitation Bruce responded. "It was great until you came along."

The Joker giggled a little. "So do you wanna know why ya here?," he asked.

"No," Bruce answered.

"No? No! Why not?" asked the Joker disappointed, "Aren't you even a little curious?"

"I already know why I'm here."

"Care to share?"

"Somebody hired you."

"And do you know who? Three guesses," the Joker said.

Bruce knew that he would have to play the Joker's stupid games, if he didn't things might go bad and despite the fact that he probably wasn't to be harmed, you could never be certain. Besides he was tied to a chair.

"Larry," he said.

"Nope."

"What?"

"It's Freddy."

"Who?" Bruce asked bewildered.

"Just kiddin'! You guessed right, and the first time too!" the Joker said, delighted that Bruce had been fooled so easily, "I think someone deserves a lolly."

He pulled out a red lollypop from somewhere inside his jacket and started unwrapping it.

"No thanks," said a disgusted Bruce.

"I wasn't talking about you," the Joker said and put the lollypop in his own mouth.

There was a moment of silence in which the two men stared at each other, broken only by the sound of the Joker's sucking of the lollypop.

I'm stuck tied to a chair in a dark abandoned car park and there is a psychotic clown with a really bad dress sense in front of me, sucking on a lollypop, Bruce thought.

"Why does Larry want me?" he finally asked.

"Well, I dunno you're just going to have to ask Barry when you meet him," the Joker replied.

"When is, Larry, coming?" Bruce enquired.

"Whenever Garry wants to," the Joker answered.

"And how long might that be?" questioned Bruce.

"Maybe as early as this afternoon or as late as next week, it depends on when Harry wants you," the Joker explained.

"Are you doing that on purpose?" asked Bruce.

"What?" asked the Joker.

"Changing his name," Bruce explained.

"Changing who's name?" the Joker asked confused.

"Never mind," said Bruce, knowing that he was getting nowhere.

"Changing who's name?" the Joker repeated.

"Larry's," Bruce answered.

"When did I do that?" the Joker asked.

"Just then, you called him Barry, Garry and Harry," said Bruce, getting annoyed despite him self.

"Did I really?" the Joker asked, acting surprised.

"Yes," said Bruce, mustering up more patience.

"What was the question again?"

Bruce sighed in exasperation.

"What was the question?"

"Never mind."

The Joker poked his leg. "What was the question?" he repeated.

"Okay," Bruce gave in, "it was "do you change Larry's name on purpose"."

"Obviously," the Joker answered and grinned, the lolly stick coming out the side of his mouth.

"Why do you this?" Bruce asked annoyed.

"Do what?" the Joker asked.

"Act insane, blow things up, harm people."

"Because its fun."

"I can't really take that as a valid excuse," Bruce said.

"Alright… I do it because… I want to be in a textbook," the Joker answered.

"You want to be in a textbook," Bruce said doubtfully.

"Yes, so that one day some poor sucker of a schoolkid will have to write an essay on me," the Joker explained.

"That's great, but…"

"But what?"

"Which textbook did you have in mind?"

"Well um… up until now I didn't have any, um, how 'bout modern history?" the Joker asked.

"I don't think so, they only talk about wars," Bruce explained.

"Dang," the Joker said, "then what about psychology?"

"That's probably the only possible one, but there is one small problem," said Bruce.

"What's that?" asked the Joker.

"I think they only mention mental illnesses that have been identified."

"Ah fair enough, I'm not even insane so I suppose they can't possibly include me."

"You don't think that you're insane?"

"No, of course not, I just do stuff," the Joker explained.

"Think ahead of the curve?" Bruce said and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Yeah," the Joker said. He cocked his head and looked at Bruce as though he had never seen him before.

...

The Commissioner had organised the SWAT team as soon as he had heard of the death of the undercover police men. It was midday already and he was worried about what the Joker could have done to Wayne in that time.

The tracking device in a ring that Bruce wore, had led them to set up a perimeter around the site of a derelict old office building. The Joker and Wayne were in there somewhere, no doubt there would be traps and hench men about.

Gordon wished that Batman was here. Surely he had heard of the kidnapping? Perhaps he was ill, he was human after all.

Shakespeare would have been proud of the dramatic irony if he had been alive in our time… and was standing near Gordon because for some reason he decided to become a police officer… and been able to read peoples minds… and knew who the real Batman was. If Shakespeare could do all that then he would be laughing, taking notes for another play and trying to decide whether it should be a tragedy or a sick comedy.

"Sir, we're ready to go now, awaiting orders sir," said someone next to Gordon.

He turned to find a SWAT member, a sergeant. If he hadn't of seen the name tag then he wouldn't have had any clue as to who was talking to him, it was very difficult to see any thing under all the protective bullet proof gear that the SWAT teams wore. Hopefully that would be enough.

He nodded. "Good luck sergeant."

The sergeant walked briskly away over to his team. They'd gone through extra training and preparation. Gordon knew they were the best of the best as well as their equipment being the best that money could by, but that didn't stop him from being anxious. Any thing could go wrong, there could be a situation that they had never dealt with before. Their only hope would be to stick together and this had been drilled into them. Even so, Gordon made sure that their family understood the risks that they were taking and had even gone so far as to have all his men write out a will, including normal officers.

The SWAT teams moved towards the entrances of the building. Gordon looked up and saw a helicopter, which he knew had dropped off the last of the three teams, fly off from the roof to circle around the area. Now he would have the horrible task of waiting for them to either come out or watch the building go up in flames.

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter sixteen. Don't you just hate it when you're trying to find something on the internet but can't.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry is mine. **

The Joker stared at Bruce for longer than he felt comfortable. Then they both jumped when the Joker's mobile phone went off. Bruce noticed that it was a new model. _Probably stolen_, he thought. The Joker stared at the screen and seemed to be thinking.

"Right," he said and stood up.

"What?" Bruce asked confused.

"I think that me and you should go," he said.

Bruce became more confused when the Joker cut all of his ropes, but stood up anyway.

"If you do anything stupid," the Joker warned, "then I'm going to give you a nice smile just like mine."

He gestured towards his mouth with his knife and then pointed towards a door. Bruce did what he was told and walked cautiously forward.

"Why are we moving?" he asked.

"Because," the Joker stated.

"Why because?" Bruce persisted, he knew that something was happening.

"I… wrong location," the Joker mumbled.

Liar, Bruce thought and quickly did a round house kick that knocked the knife from the Joker's hand, then punched him in the sternum sending him flying. He advanced towards the stricken Joker, ready to deliver the knock out blow, but the Joker climbed to his feet with surprising speed for someone who had just been winded. Bruce stopped when the Joker whipped out a large handgun from his jacket.

"The kick was brilliant, but it just made my job of getting you to Barry a lot harder," the Joker said, "Especially since there are SWAT teams coming to save your ass. So you know what?"

He fired the gun, Bruce rolled out of the way, only to find that there was a red flag with the word 'Bang' on it sticking out of the barrel.

"I'm going to leave," the Joker continued, "and you can stay here or do whatever, and I will come back for you at a better time."

He opened the door which led to a hall and turned left. Bruce ran into the hall to see the Joker closing a door at the end, he smiled and pointed behind Bruce. Bruce turned around to find a set of stairs. With one more glance at the door, he climbed them three at a time.

...

A heavy weight was lifted off Gordon's shoulders when he heard the sergeant report of the discovery of Bruce Wayne unharmed.

"That's great," he said relieved, "what about the Joker?"

"Wayne said that the Joker escaped through a door in the underground car park," came the reply.

"Damn," Gordon said without much feeling, "how did Bruce get away?"

"Um, the Joker intended to move when he knew of our presence but Bruce caused him some trouble so he decided to escape and get Bruce some other time."

"Alright well ask Bruce if he can show you where he last saw the Joker and then get a few people to escort him outside, the rest can go after the Joker," Gordon commanded.

"Do you want him alive, sir?" the sergeant asked.

Gordon thought for a moment then said, "whatever is most convenient sergeant."

He had probably just sentenced the Joker to death, Gordon thought. Quite a few of the SWAT members had been affected by the Joker in some way or another and most wanted his head on a plate, come to think of it, so did Gordon. But he still felt a slight twinge of guilt, it was going against his morals after all. However the Joker's death could save a lot of people from pain in the future and they wouldn't have to worry about having to go to extremes to keep him locked up and it seemed that he was incurable anyway. Then again he was a human being and it is said that human behaviour reflects the society. He could be learnt from in order to cure other people that turned out like him in the future.

There had actually been reports of Joker-like behaviour in a few other cities, with people modelling themselves after him. Though as far as Gordon was concerned they were just copycats, what they did was pale in comparison to the psychotic things the Joker came up with.

The sergeant's voice came over the radio. "We're now going after the Joker sir."

"Good luck," he wished them.

He glanced over at the entrance of the building and watched Bruce Wayne walk out, slightly ruffled but otherwise unharmed.

...

The SWAT team jogged along the underground hallway, eyes peeled for any sign of a trap. The hall was lit quite well, the walls were smooth and there were no doors.

Perfect.

They came across a corner. Leaning against the wall they waited as one officer used a mirror to glimpse at the hall beyond. It was clear and there was a door at the end. He signalled to the rest that it was clear and they proceeded up to the large iron door.

After trying to open it, they decided to try something else. One brought forward a long metal pipe-like device that looked like a hydraulics thing from some sort of machine. It was a new device that had been invented by the military for just this sort of situation. The SWAT member held it up horizontally against the door and pressed a button. The two ends stretched out until they were pushing against the sides of the door frame. He then pressed another button and another extension in the middle that was facing the door started to extend and push. After a few seconds the thing easily forced it open, destroying the lock. The device was removed and stored away and the SWAT teams advanced cautiously into the room.

They found a large amount of ammonium nitrate spilled across the floor and mixed with diesel. In the middle on a small crate was a pipe bomb with a timer, it read forty seven seconds. Immediately the SWAT leader told his team to retreat and they ran as fast as they could back down the hallway. Hoping they would be able to make it to the surface in time.

...

Gordon had Bruce consume some soap and tea while he explained what happened. Bruce was now on the phone reassuring his worried butler. Gordon leaned against the car, drinking a cup of tea and waiting for his SWAT teams to return, hopefully with the Joker in tow.

Suddenly a large explosion rocked the foundations of the new office building next to theirs. He immediately got out his radio and tried to contact the SWAT teams, not caring about the hot tea that had spilled down his front.

"Sergeant! Sergeant Cooley! Can you hear me?" he yelled.

"Yes, yessir," said the out of breath sergeant.

"Is everyone alright? What happened?" he asked.

There was a short pause in which Gordon could faintly hear someone counting.

"Yeah everyone's safe and accounted for, we went underground and found a room full of explosives and a time bomb so we got out of there quicksmart."

"Where are you?"

"In the car park of the building sir, the blast couldn't reach us here."

"Thank god," Gordon said relieved.

"Where was the explosion sir?" the sergeant asked.

"In the other building next to this one, the new one," Gordon answered.

"Was any one on the surface hurt?" he asked.

"I don't know yet sergeant," Gordon said as a new wave of worry assaulted his mind, "please come up to the surface if it's possible, the chase is off."

"Yessir," the sergeant replied.

Gordon watched as the police drew back to a safer distance, the building began to collapse. _Time to find out the worst_, he thought and tried to contact the head officer that had been stationed on that side of the building.

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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter seventeen. I actually got this done faster than I expected!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry is mine. **

The Joker held a man by the front of his shirt out over the side of a large skyscraper. The Joker knew the man was close to Larry. He was a "right hand man" so to speak and would know a fair bit about his plans. However Larry never used the term himself. The Joker was in the process of interrogating the man to find out exactly what Larry was planing to do. He wasn't happy.

"Now I'm going to ask you a question and you're going to answer it, okay?" the Joker said menacingly and let the man hang out further over the edge.

The man vigorously shook his head, not daring to look down at his doom. He knew that the drop would take long enough for him to write out a will.

"Yes! Yes! Whatever you say!" he shouted in a panicky voice.

"Why was Larry late?" the Joker asked calmly, "was he stuck in traffic?"

"No! No, he knew that the police would come after Wayne," the man replied, ready to say anything in order to avoid becoming a Meatlover's pizza.

"And how did he get that interesting bit of information?" asked a curious Joker.

"A cop told him."

"What else did the cop tell him?"

"He said that the police knew Larry was using you to get Wayne and that Wayne wanted to act as bait."

"And he knew that Wayne would be carrying a tracking device of some sort," the Joker said thoughtfully.

"Yes he told me that," said the man, trying desperately not to lose his footing on the edge.

"Why didn't he bother to tell me? Was it because he wanted me gone?" the Joker demanded, shaking the man slightly.

"Yes," he shouted quickly, the sweat on his brow being evaporated by the breeze.

"But if I succeeded then he would get Batman," the Joker said to himself.

"Huh?" the man said suddenly confused.

The Joker pulled him back onto the roof, but still kept a tight hold of the shaking man.

"Then he would be able to finish me off after," he continued in the same distant tone. He released the man who stood uncertainly.

"Um, do I, does this mean I can go, now?" he asked hopefully.

"No."

The Joker whipped out his gun and fired. The man jumped in fright but soon burst into a nervous fit of giggles when he realised that there was a 'Bang' flag sticking out of the barrel.

"It was a joke!" he said in anxious relief.

"Was it?" the Joker said, looking surprised.

He looked at the gun as though seeing it for the first time, then pointed it back towards the fidgeting man and fired. The flag impaled him though the chest, just below the heart and he fell down on the ground.

"No it wasn't," the Joker said darkly and walked away.

The man was left to die, lying unconscious in a spreading pool of blood.

...

Bruce sat on the couch in the lounge room of his luxury penthouse, drinking a cup of hot chocolate that had been given to him by his relieved butler. Commissioner Gordon sat across from him, his own hot chocolate on the coffee table. Bruce had been willing to be interviewed by Gordon the next morning after the incident, despite Gordon's assurances that he could wait for a few more days to let Bruce recover from his ordeal.

"We know that the Joker was hired by Larry to kidnap you," Gordon started, "however we don't know why."

Alfred walked in with a small plate of biscuits which he placed on the coffee table.

"Sorry to disturb you sirs, just thought you would like some biscuits," he apologised.

"Thankyou Alfred," Bruce replied.

Gordon nodded to the man and continued.

"Do you know why Larry would want to kidnap you?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Bruce thought for a moment then replied, "No sorry."

"He obviously wanted you alive, perhaps to talk to you about something," Gordon reasoned, "have you ever seen him before?"

"Yes, I met him overseas," Bruce replied, "we both went to a martial arts school."

"What sort of relationship did you have with him?"

"I didn't really know much about him, we didn't get along very well."

"Do you think that he perhaps wanted revenge?"

"Probably, I did do some… things that he would really hate me for," Bruce explained.

"What sort of things?" Gordon asked hoping to make a valuable discovery.

"Oh, you know, pranks and the like," said Bruce dismissively, "though they were a little more than simple practical jokes, so I don't think that he would want to just talk about how they upset him."

"I see, is there anything that you know that could help in his capture?" asked Gordon.

"Um, no I don't think so," replied Bruce uncertainly.

Gordon nodded and then glanced down at his watch.

"Well I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Thankyou for your help Mr Wayne," he said.

They stood up and shook hands.

"You're welcome."

"If you think that there is anything else we ought to know, then please give us a call or drop in. Any information we get could be very helpful."

"Certainly. Always willing to help an officer."

Gordon nodded again and walked towards the elevator, apologising to Alfred for not drinking the hot chocolate before he left.

...

A few days later a public funeral was held for the eight men who lost their lives. They had been on patrol and were walking next to the new building when it exploded. If the force of the blast hadn't killed them first then the flying shrapnel certainly would have. A few other officers standing in a perimeter around the old building were injured despite the closest being over fifty metres away.

The men's coffins were draped with an American flag and a large wreath with the photo of the deceased had been placed on each one. The black sea of mourners had gathered in the large cemetery where an old priest gave a sermon. Then relatives and friends stood up to give speeches, telling of the wonderful attributes of the deceased and how they would be sorely missed by so many.

The two young daughters of one man stood together and recited an ode to their father and the other men who had died beside him.

A mother spoke of how her son would finally be able to meet his father.

The commissioner stood and said a small speech of farewell to the brave men who had sacrificed their lives in order to save the lives of others, his eyes filling with tears just like everyone else's.

Then two lines of smartly dressed officers in parade uniform fired their rifles, the stately priest said the last rites and the coffins were slowly lowered into the ground accompanied by the national anthem mournfully played by a small brass band.

**I have never been to a funeral before so I'm not really sure what happens. Nevertheless you get the idea.**

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	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter eighteen. Now time to start doing my assessment task.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry is mine. **

Faye Slift sipped at a cup of coffee while the studio was being set up and thought about how much the Joker had affected her life. She was promoted because of him and now gets a hell of a lot more money than she used to. The Joker may kill and maim and do his best to make others miserable, but he still managed to positively affect people.

He was still at large, despite the police's best attempts to capture him. She really thought that the police were pathetic. Sure they caught quite a few petty thieves and solved murders, but no matter what they tried they couldn't capture one man who had large scars on his cheeks that made him stand out in a crowd. She thought that if a woman were to be the commissioner then the Joker would be captured within a week. Why? Because a woman wouldn't be too proud to ask for help.

_Luckily they don't though,_ she thought. Otherwise she wouldn't have anything interesting to tell the thousands who tuned in to listen to her. The show's ratings had tripled since the news of the Joker's escape and she couldn't just tell the people about some little brat's bad driving or that the hospitals are actually mortuaries.

She sat down at her desk and made sure her omni microphone was positioned correctly while makeup artists did one more brushing over of her already flawless complexion.

"And we're live in five…"

She organised her papers.

"Four…"

Makeup hurriedly finished what they were doing and rushed off stage.

"Three…"

She wet her mouth with her tongue and swallowed any excess saliva.

"Two…"

She rearranged her features into a smile.

"One…"

She inhaled a deep breath.

"Good evening, I am Faye Slift and you're watching Gotham news.

Six more murders have been recorded since noon today, all found in separate places around Gotham. Police say they are all connected as it has been discovered that all the victims were involved in underground activity of some sort. It is unknown whether another underground gang is responsible, though it is being blamed on the Joker due to the presence of joker cards at the scenes of the crimes. Police are reluctant to rule out the possibility that someone else is responsible and trying to frame the Joker.

The bodies have been removed from the scenes and taken in for autopsies and identification. The police state that they are trying to keep an open mind in order to catch the true killer or killers. They have made little progress in the capture of the Joker and have not received any reports from eyewitnesses as to the Joker's current location or movements.

Many people believe that the police are not doing enough to stop the terrorist and should call in extra support from other states. The mayor has put up a million dollar reward for whoever is able to bring the Joker into custody, dead or alive. This has caused a large amount of bounty hunters to come to the city. The mayor has also issued a warning not to do anything that may put your self in danger, and he only advises professionals to consider hunting the Joker. He pleads for everyone else to not approach the Joker under any circumstances and report any sightings of him to the police as soon as possible.

In other news, Australia has withdrawn its troops from the Middle East, along with New Zealand…"

...

Commissioner Gordon examined the reports of the days victims.

One middle aged man named Carson O. Gin was found in the drivers seat of a green sedan outside the building of Simplicity Funerals, along with his associate Max Power. Both had smiles carved into their faces and a joker card was found hanging from the rear vision mirror. Both died from bullets to the head and both were known to have underground connections.

Another report details three men who were found lying on a pedestrian crossing, Phil Anderer, Ron Daivoo and another man nicknamed 'Bear' and who has yet to be fully identified. All were involved in the underground and all had carved smiles. They apparently died from being hit by a fast moving vehicle. A joker card was found in the mouth of the middle man.

Another report was about the discovery of a man in a trolley in a car park of a major shopping centre. Robin Banks was already known by the police, who had arrested him for drug trafficking on two occasions. He was found to have been poisoned by chemicals often found in cleaning agents, and also had a carved smile and a joker card in his wallet.

Gordon was beginning to see a relation of the manner of death to the location. He glanced at the pile on his desk. Over 24 victims had been found in the last three days. All with smiles carved on their faces and all with joker cards discovered in the same area as the bodies. The victims were closely connected as they all worked in the same underground gang which, thanks to information from Batman, is known to be headed by Larry.

Considering the Joker's dealings with Larry and his near capture it didn't surprise Gordon one bit that he would want to get revenge on the mob boss. It had also been discovered yesterday that one officer had given information to a mob boss in exchange for cash, though he was resisting questioning and wouldn't reveal who he talked to or what was said. Gordon assumed that it was Larry and that the corrupt cop had informed him of Wayne's willingness to play bait, thus giving Larry a chance to get rid of the Joker.

It seemed obvious that the Joker was responsible, though it was still possible that he was being framed by a rival underground gang. Gordon personally thought that the latter was unlikely, especially since other gangs were too weak and small, unless there was another large gang that somehow got under the radar. What puzzled Gordon most and made him only 90% sure of his judgement was the amount of bodies. How could the Joker find, capture, kill and then discard so many in only a few days? It was obvious he had help.

He wondered what Larry would do if the toll became any higher.

...

Larry turned off the television and leaned back in his couch, sipping a martini and patting Lawson. Three days had passed since the first discovery of the body of one of his workers. He was losing them by the hour and at this rate he would have none by the end of the month. He had been recruiting more but he was still falling behind and potential members were being turned off by the threat.

He knew it was the Joker. There was no one else who could or would challenge his power. He was beginning to get desperate. What could he do to stop this menace? Go to the police? Not a chance. He didn't believe that they would be able to protect him very well, besides he had his own security. Perhaps he should have listened to his workers in the beginning and shot the Joker.

As concerned as he was, Larry couldn't help thinking that the murders were very inventive. The Joker had a sick sort of pride in his work.

**The world's only fully functioning homicidal artist!**

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	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter nineteen. Yay holidays have started! Though unfortunately I still have heaps of work to do, luckily quite a bit of it is creative writing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the dark knight or the joker, but Larry is mine. **

The men had gone through all the preparations and plans before they left. Their boss didn't normally do what they were just about to. But he was planning something big and for it to work he would need a large amount of money.

The van had to stop at a set of traffic lights and one man quickly rechecked the weapons and equipment. Their boss had decided to give them something special to help with the bank heist, as well as some face masks. The man in the front passenger seat radioed to one of the two men who had been stationed in the bank.

"We're almost there, get your mask on."

The man in the bank listened to the order through a concealed earpiece. He glanced across the room and caught the eye of the other man, then headed towards the toilets. The other man waited a few moments before going to the toilet as well.

The driver of the van drove it up onto the pavement and all four men dashed into the building. They fired a few shots into the roof and immediately the citizens dropped to the ground, praying that they would get out alive. The two men rushed out of the toilet, their masks now in place, and joined their fellow robbers. Two men strode towards the desks, citizens scrambling to get out of their way.

One bank clerk carefully stood up with his arms raised and received a strong dose of fear gas.

...

The Joker was driving down the street when he saw a van drive up over the curb and four masked men run into the building, which he noticed was a bank. He quickly parked the car on the other side of the street and waited to see how long it took them before the police showed up.

He heard a few shots and then only the slight whimpering of fearful citizens, and the cry of a now awake and cranky baby.

Then something he hadn't expected, a man ran out screaming, a bank clerk he assumed. Then a few more people ran out. The Joker noticed wisps of smoke or gas every time the door was opened.

One person banged into his car and lay on the bonnet curled up in the foetal position and rocking slightly. His eyes were closed tight and he looked like he was having his worst nightmare. The Joker remembered back to when he last saw a whole lot of people like this.

Fear night. The robbers were using fear gas. Could that mean that the Scarecrow was trying to make a comeback? He decided to make a few enquiries.

...

Half of the men were spraying the gas while the rest were stuffing all the money they could find into sacks.

One man tripped over a child curled up in a ball. His mother had run away out of shear terror and had completely forgotten about him.

The men were nearly done when suddenly a burst of gun fire killed three and mortally wounded another. The other two turned to find the Joker in the doorway with an AK-47 in one hand and a knife in the other. After seeing the image the men could be forgiven for thinking that their masks were beginning to fail.

One man ducked behind a desk to avoid the next spray of bullets, the other man was not so quick. The remaining man tried to run but was caught in the Joker's iron grip. He was thrown back onto the desk, his mask ripped off and knife pressed to his throat.

"Pl, pl, please," he stuttered in fright, "don't, k, kill me!"

The Joker stared at him with his cold, emotionless gaze and the man wondered why he wasn't running around screaming or curled up in a ball. The fear gas had filled the room, giving it a hazy look. The man himself was succumbing to the effects, the Joker's face seemed to start melting and his laugh seemed to belong to the Devil himself.

"Who do you work for?" the face said in an unearthly voice.

The eyes burned with the fires of hell and the man was surprised that he was even able to speak in the face of such a beast.

"Th, th, th, the sc, scarecrow, the Scarecrow!" he shouted.

The screaming reverberated in his mind. Then he saw a blade, growing bigger and bigger the metal glinting despite the fact that the world had gone completely black. It moved ominously towards him and he saw the face disembodied on a black background. It melted and laughed and its black eyes were endless pits that he felt he was falling into.

The knife drew closer and he felt pain in his mouth the taste of blood. He saw red, on the knife and flowing like a river around him. The pain was unbearable, a fire had started on his cheeks. The knife and face and blood started to circle around him.

The screaming continued getting louder and louder. The black background turned to red and the blood kept flowing. He smelt burning flesh and tasted blood. He knew he was going to die. The knife grew and grew and looked as though it was going to engulf the world, it absorbed the blood and demanded more.

The face was the devil. The hair was made of poisonous snakes and blood oozed out of the cheeks and mouth. The teeth were sharp points and the white face continued to melt.

The eyes drew him in and he fell.

**Christmas in four days, or three, somewhere around there.**

**Review**** and you will get MOIST DELICIOUS CAKE!!!**

**With gold sprinkles! And special Christmas decorations on top!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter twenty. I have finally gotten off my backside and wrote two whole chapters for you to enjoy for Christmas. **

**You might want to eat your Christmas dinner first. You Have Been Warned!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine. **

The Scarecrow sat at his desk in the upstairs office of the once abandoned factory warehouse. His men had been labouring away for over a week now to produce enough fear serum to affect the entire population of Gotham. While they did that, he was busy trying to find an efficient way of administering the drug to the populace.

His mind started to wander and he thought about what it was like to get a dose of the fear gas himself. He recalled being afraid of everything. The people who would seem to come in just to torment him, laughing in their hellish way. The walls always seemed to want to close in and crush him, always moving and grinding. His own skin had felt like a separate entity, it writhed and crawled as though thousands of bugs lived below the surface. And the world which was so large and dangerous and full of parasites and viruses.

When he had moments of respite from the horrors around him, he began fearing Fear itself. He didn't want to see anything or do anything in case the horrible feeling came crawling up his spine to torment him once more.

Then he was free. He didn't know how, he didn't know when. But he found himself wandering out in the dark world. He came across a child who ran away screaming. He had been puzzled, there were no monsters about, no doomsday, no apocalypse. Then he realised that it was He that she was running from, and he wondered how on earth she could be so scared of something so trivial as a stranger.

Suddenly he realised that he had nothing to fear, he had felt so much fear that something like a rat held no horror for him. He had become used to the fear. It was this sudden epiphany that led him to his current pursuit, which was to make everyone else know so much ridiculous fear that they became numb to it, just like he did.

...

One of the Scarecrow's hired help exited the cubicle of a toilet downstairs. He washed his hands in the sink and glanced up into the mirror only to find the Joker standing right behind him. Before he could utter a word his throat was slit, blood spurting out of the deep wound. He fell to the ground croaking, struggling for his last breaths.

The Joker looked up into the mirror. A gratuitous amount of red obscured his reflection.

...

Coming back to the present the Scarecrow decided he needed a break. Coming out of his office, he realised that all his workers had disappeared. If they had gone on a break or gone home then they would have turned the machines off.

He descended the stairs, drawing his pistol. He knew something had happened to them. Taking out a syringe from his coat pocket and picking up a tube of fear serum, he connected the two. He walked carefully around the factory machines, eyes and ears open for any sign of life.

He noticed a dark patch on the ground and slowly approached it. It was blood. Then he saw a trail, _someone must have been killed then dragged off_, he thought. He followed it, until it came to the toilets. The trail continued under the closed door. He cautiously opened it, anticipating an attack any second.

Other people would have died of the suspense by now, but he felt no fear. Just pissed off. He found in the centre of the bloody toilets a pile of corpses, but there was no one alive inside. He turned to leave but as he opened the door he was pounced on by none other than the Joker who stabbed him in chest just below the neck.

But the Scarecrow wasn't just going to die that easily, he shoved the syringe into the Joker's arm and injected the fear serum. Looking into the Joker's face, he found that the man was actually grinning.

...

"Good evening I am Faye Slift and you are watching Gotham news. Human flesh has been discovered inside the freezers of well known restaurants in Gotham. The body parts were found last night when the staff of some restaurants discovered human hands and feet in their freezers and promptly called the police. Human heads were discovered at the bottom of all freezers allowing police to identify the murder victims.

Unfortunately, though some restaurants discovered the body parts, others had already prepared what they thought was pork and served it to their customers. It was only when they discovered the heads at the bottom of the freezer that the staff found out the horrible truth. Over twenty prestigious restaurants were targeted, with most discovering the bodies before they could be served.

It is believed that the Joker was behind the crime as joker cards had been found inside the mouths of the heads. Police are doing all they can to try to capture the Joker, but so far they still have a limited amount of clues and plead for the public to assist in any way they can. They believe that the Scarecrow had hired all 28 victims as the body of the Scarecrow was found in a large butcher's factory, it was still in one piece.

It is alleged that the Joker massacred the Scarecrow and his workers as he wished to destroy any so-called 'competition' a theory supported by evidence of his attacks on another powerful underground gang.

The police have decided not to release the names of the restaurants and urge other businesses that have discovered human bodies on their premises to report it to the police immediately. No penalty will be given.

In other news, the first robot with human emotions has blown itself up due to depression. The scientists say that the suicidal feelings were due to a chemical imbalance…"

**Review**** and you will get MOIST DELICIOUS CAKE!!!**

**With gold sprinkles! And special Christmas decorations on top!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter twenty-one. This one isn't gratuitously violent like the last one, though it is shorter than usual.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine. **

Faye Slift was getting annoyed. The Joker was letting her down, he hadn't done anything in the last week since the massacre of the Scarecrow and his men and she was getting sick of reporting about the fact that the police were too stupid to figure out where he lived.

She looked at what she had to report about that night. Some stupid fat child has gotten himself stuck in a tyre, some random person believes that he has been abducted by an alien, some other random woman can sing, and there was something else about an ambulance being involved in a car accident.

As far as she was concerned, the news was lost without something big happening every week. _Without some big event_, she thought, _the news would just turn into a gossip show_. Not that she didn't mind gossip. She loved hearing about the stupid things some celebrities did or who's having an affair with who.

But still, she really wished that the Joker would do something soon. She felt he owed it to her.

...

Gordon waited on the roof for Batman. At the sound of footsteps he turned around and as always, saw Batman stepping out of the shadows.

"Have you found anything new?" Batman started in his raspy voice.

"No unfortunately," Gordon sighed, "what about you?"

"I know that Larry has been trafficking drugs, he also used to be a large drug lord in Japan as well as an arms dealer."

"So that's why the amount of drug use has increased lately."

"I can't find many clues about where he is but I believe that he is using a warehouse on the docks on the east side of the river."

"That's great," Gordon praised, "that means we'll be able to knock him out real soon."

"It may be harder than you think," Batman cautioned, "he knows the Joker is after him so he's not taking any chances."

"True," admitted Gordon, "we haven't found any clues on the Joker, I'm really starting to think that we will have to wait to catch him in the act again."

"Then let's try to get him before he commits the act," Batman said and left.

...

Eileen Dover turned around the corner into her street. She decided to search for her keys which she hoped were somewhere in her bag. As she walked along she dug deeper and deeper but still couldn't find them. She began to get worried.

As she continued to search she failed to watch where she was going and subsequently ran into a pole, falling back on her ass in her surprise. Someone close by burst out into high pitched giggles and when she looked up to glare at the culprit, the blush of embarrassment on her face drained to a pale look of shock. For who should be standing there doubled over and giggling but the Joker!

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a note which he dropped on the ground beside her and then strolled away in the direction from which she came.

After a few stunned moments Eileen quickly sprang up, snatched up the hundred dollar note and ran up to her apartment. She knocked hard on the door in the hope that her room mate would be in. She didn't want to be alone.

Her friend answered the door in a bath towel and she dashed inside, slamming the door behind her.

"Woah, what's wrong?" Isabell Ringing asked.

"You will never believe me but I just saw the Joker!" Eileen replied.

Her friend blinked in surprise a few times.

"I was just walking down our street trying to find my keys and I wasn't watching where I was going and I ran into a pole and then I saw the Joker laughing at me and he gave me this hundred dollar note and then walked off and then I ran home!" Eileen related, becoming out of breath.

"He didn't hurt you?" Isabell asked worried.

"No."

"Touch you?"

"No."

"Say anything to you?"

"No he just threw this on the ground next to me and walked off," she said and held up the hundred dollar note.

"Well then you'd better go down to the police station and hand it in," Isabell stated.

"Fine, but you're coming with me."

**Hope you liked your Christmas present!**

**Review**** and you will get MOIST DELICIOUS CAKE!!!**

**With gold sprinkles! And spec****ial Christmas decorations on top!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter twenty-two. Holidays make me lazy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine. **

Bruce Wayne was watching his favourite game show on the television when it was interrupted by breaking news. Faye Slift introduced herself and then launched into the news.

"The Joker sent us a video with a threat to blow up Gotham city's main bridge, lets see what the Joker had to say."

The news then played a video clip showing a man tied up to a seat. He started to speak, apparently reading off a sign behind the unsteady camera.

"Batman has been missing from Gotham's streets for a long time now. Can it be that he has given up? If so then that means that I have won the game and get to do what I want to the city and its inhabitants. Tonight I will blow up Gotham's main bridge and if Batman doesn't show himself, then I will blow up a school, then a shopping centre etc etc etc until he does."

Then the camera was turned around to face the cameraman.

"I know that you're out there Batman, and I know you'll find me before I blow up the bridge. You have until nine o'clock before it blows," the Joker threatened.

Then the video was turned off and Faye looked at her watch.

"It's just past eight o'clock now, so that means that Batman has about one hour to make his decision."

As soon as the video had ended Bruce had sprung up off the couch and headed towards the Batcave. Alfred didn't object, but instead came with him.

While Bruce was getting into his Batsuit and checking his gear, Alfred was given the task of tracking the Joker down. Chuck Roast, the man that had been the hostage, had been a former police man turned criminal and it took only a few minutes to find the number to his mobile. After it had rung for the second time it was answered.

"I'm sorry, but Chuck Roast is a little tied up at the moment, please leave a message after the scream."

This was enough to find the location and Bruce immediately headed for the office building next to the river just a few blocks down from the bridge. At half past Bruce reached the building and parked in an alleyway out of sight. He then used his radar to determine that only two people were inside the building, the Joker and another man who was stuck to a wall. He quickly hurried inside, eyes, ears and radar open for any sort of trap.

When he had reached the top floor he quietly approached the Joker who had his back turned and was looking out at the view. Suddenly he fell over a trip wire which then caused a large cage to fall down from the roof, neatly trapping him. The Joker turned around and laughed while he danced around the cage. Batman slowly stood up.

"What do you want Joker?" he asked, annoyed that he hadn't seen the wire.

"Nothing," was the Joker's curt reply.

"Then why did you call me here?" Batman asked angrily.

"I just wanted to know if you were still playing the game" the Joker replied.

"This is not a game."

"Not to you it isn't."

"You think this is all just a game? People are getting hurt because of you!"

The Joker smiled at him. Then as though remembering something he said, "Do you wanna know how I got these scars?"

Batman didn't respond so he started to tell a story, walking around the cage as he did so and banging a pipe on the bars.

"There was an old grumpy homeless man who used to live under a bridge. All the kids in the area used to tease him and ask him, "why so serious?" And he would throw rocks at them to make them to go away. One day I decided to go fishing, I caught three fish and I was enjoying myself so much that I didn't realise that it had gotten dark, but I packed up my things and headed home deciding to take a shortcut over the bridge so that I would be home in time for dinner. As I was walking along the bridge I was caught from behind by the old man. He held me so tight I nearly suffocated. He turned me around and said, "You've got three nice fish to eat, why don't you smile?" I didn't reply because I was too scared. And then he said, "If I had those fish I would be smiling," and took my fish. Then he asked, "Why so serious? You'll end up like an old grumpy man like me, and we don't want that do we?" And he stuck a knife in my mouth and said, "Lets put a smile on that face."

"I know that story is just I lie Joker," Batman said annoyed.

"No it isn't" the Joker defended.

"Yes it is, you always tell people a story and every time it's different," Batman argued.

The Joker just shrugged and standing on a chair, set a timer on the top of the cage.

"I'd love to stay and argue with you for a little longer, but I have to leave," the Joker said, and with that he left.

Batman looked at the timer and saw that he only had ten minutes to escape. He tried to lift the cage but it was far too heavy. He sent a message to Alfred, in case he couldn't get out. Chuck Roast who had been taped to the wall struggled against his bonds.

**Will the Batman escape? Will the Joker succeed in blowing up the bridge? Will Larry remember where he put his car keys? Find out in the next chapter!**

**Review**** and you will get MOIST DELICIOUS CAKE!!!**

**With gold sprinkles! **


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter twenty-three. Yes, Larry has finally found his car keys and is happily driving around in his Nissan GTR. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine. **

A police man, Alex Blaine-Layder, had been posted in a small street a few blocks away from the bridge with the task of looking out for the Joker. He ate a large crispy crème donut as he listened to the radio. His partner, Howe D. Pardner, had gone to the toilet up in one of the office buildings. It had been awhile now and he wondered if his friend was constipated.

It was dark, he was alone and there was no one else in the street except him. Perfect.  
Then the passenger door was opened and his partner got in.

"Took your time," Alex said playfully, "What were you doing in there, chopping down the Amazon forest?"

"No, I was getting the clothes on," came the reply.

The voice not to mention the sentence sounded strange, he turned his head to actually look at his partner. To his horror, he found the Joker in his partner's suit and with his partner's pistol pointed straight at his head.

"Get out, I want to drive," he ordered.

Alex Blaine-Layder unbuckled his seat belt and was roughly pushed out onto the street. Then the Joker put pedal to the metal and sped off with the sirens going, throwing out Alex's half eaten burger onto the road. He immediately radioed the Commissioner then ran up to find his friend.

...

Batman tried in vain to lift the cage but quickly abandoned that idea. Chuck Roast, who was taped to the wall, freed one of his arms and tore off his gag.

"Hey, Batman," he said, "if you free me with one of your razor things then I can help you out."

"Why should I help you? You'd just run off," Batman said doubtfully.

"No I wouldn't. Listen, I may have turned into a criminal but I've been trying to go on the straight and narrow. I promise that if I get free then I'll help you," he said, willing Batman to believe him.

Batman considered his proposal. He didn't have any chance at the moment and the man might actually be able to free him. If the man didn't get free then he would be caught up in the blast as well, and despite the fact that he may have done some bad things, he didn't deserve to die any more than the next person. He glanced up at the timer. He only had about five minutes. It could hurt his chances to co-operate.

"Fine," he agreed, "I'll shoot a razor at the wall next to you and you can cut yourself free."

The man quickly pulled the weapon out of the wall and proceeded to cut at the masking tape. After about three minutes he dropped to the floor, untangling his legs. At this point, Batman expected him to just run off, but instead he ran to where the rope was against the wall and began trying to pull the cage up. Batman resumed his efforts of lifting the cage, but even after counting to three a few times they couldn't lift it any higher than an inch.

"Why don't you tie something heavy on the end, like a filing cabinet," Batman suggested.

"Good idea," Chuck Roast said and dashed out of the room.

A short while later he came back pushing an office chair with a filing cabinet on top. After tying it securely to the end of the rope they tried again.

"We've only got thirty seconds left," Batman said, "you should get out now while you still can."

"No," Chuck Roast grunted as they tried one last time, "I made a promise and I never break a promise."

The seconds were counting down. Batman could hear Mr Roast saying a prayer under his breath. Batman realised that he had misjudged Chuck Roast, the man was willing to risk his life to save someone else's.

Chuck Roast was terrified, but knew he would never be able to forgive himself if he just left Batman, a normal man in other circumstances, to die. The seconds loudly announced their steadily approaching doom.

"Come on!" Chuck yelled and gave one last heave on the rope even though it would be too late.

...

Justin Time was in the middle of the group of police cars that were chasing the Joker. The lunatic was extremely reckless, not seeming to care if he was going to run into other cars. He somehow managed to avoid all the things the police threw at him and even shot back at them every now and then. The police would normally pull out of a car chase with someone driving as dangerously as this, but because it was the Joker at the wheel they were going to do everything in their power to apprehend him.

As they chased him round a corner into Main street there was suddenly a large explosion from the rooftops above them. Something cascaded down into the street below, completely obscuring their view and the police had to halt their pursuit. Justin realised that they were millions of colourful bouncy balls after a few entered in through the open back window of the patrol car.

The police waited until things had calmed down before they attempted to pick up the chase. Unfortunately, even after spreading out and with the aid of two helicopters they couldn't find any trace of the Joker, not even the stolen police car.

...

The police car was discovered a week later, floating in the river just under a small bridge. Howe D. Pardner was discovered in the toilet of the office building, tied up and only in his underwear.

...

The last second on the timer expired as the digital clock on an office desk read nine o'clock. An explosion of fireworks erupted from the main bridge of Gotham accompanied by gasps of surprise by the assembled crowd of expectant spectators.

Up in the office building, the cage simply fell apart and both Batman and Chuck Roast fell off balance from the sudden lack of resistance. Recovering, they both stood up and looked at each other warily. Then Batman stuck out his hand which Chuck Roast tentatively shook.

"Thankyou," Batman said gratefully.

"I keep my word," Chuck replied, shrugging.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I think that I might get a proper job and pay back some debts, the right way."

"Good luck."

Chuck Roast nodded and strode off with his head held high. Batman gave Alfred a call to tell him that he was alright. Then he too left to go home.

**I love strange names.**

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	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter twenty-four. We are getting very close to the end of this story. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine. **

It was a rainy, miserable day. The streets were empty, everyone was inside with their heaters on. But not Myra Maines, she had a job to do. She finally had a chance to avenge her father and capture, or kill, his murderer.

She never had a strong relationship with him, each having completely different careers. She worked as a bounty hunter, someone who hunted down criminals and brought them to the police for a reward. He on the other hand had been a member of the mob, until he decided to go straight. He had been doing a good job of it, and they were getting along well without the tension brought about from their differing careers. Until he was brutally killed by the man that she was now chasing.  
The Joker.

Her father had never met the mob boss Larry. He had been visiting an old friend who worked for the man when the Joker decided to strike and he was killed simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was because of the pointlessness of his death that she wanted revenge.

The Joker was fleeing from her on a stolen motorbike, a nice Harley-Davidson, and she was pursuing him in her faithful van. It was difficult just trying to keep up with him. Motorbikes were so much more agile than vans, and they could go places a normal sized car couldn't.

The Joker ran up onto the footpath where he stopped and dismounted from the bike. Unwilling to lose her quarry she quickly stopped and got out to chase him, assuming that he was going to run into one of the apartment buildings.

Instead he pulled out a gun. She jumped and rolled behind the van as he fired a shot. She heard the pitiful sound of a deflating tyre and then the sound of footsteps moving away. Looking around the edge of the van she saw the Joker trotting down the street and… jumping in every single puddle he came across!

She dashed around to the front and wrenched the door open, gathering up a stun gun, hunting knife and pistol, tucking them securely into her belt. Glancing down the street to see where the Joker had gone to she found that he was no where in sight. There was a service station on the corner of the block. _Maybe the store clerk could tell me where the Joker went_, she thought.

A little puffed from running half a block, she immediately did a quick look around the shop to make sure the Joker wasn't hiding amongst the shelves. She then hurried to the counter where the store clerk was standing with his back turned and doing something in front of him. She tried to get his attention.

"Excuse me?"

There would have barely been enough time to blink it happened so fast. Before she had finished her sentence, the store clerk whipped around and she only had a chance to see a large red smile. She failed to notice the shotgun in the Joker's hands before it was too late. She didn't even know what hit her. Her brains being blown out of her skull before they could form a coherent thought.

The Joker gazed with amusement at his handiwork. The spray of brains, bone, blood and fluids created an interesting pattern in the aisle and on the shelves that it looked as though an artist had created it. He shrugged off the jacket he had borrowed and stalked out of the shop, picking up a sherbet lollypop as he went.

...

When Gordon heard that the Joker had been spotted he rushed down to the scene as soon as he was able. He soon wished he hadn't. The woman, who had been identified as Myra Maines and known to work as a bounty hunter, had the entire back half of her head blown off. Brain membrane, blood, hair and bone fragments had coated a whole aisle, covering the shelves as well.

"Fill me in Nigel," he commanded as Detective Hawthorne approached him.

"The witness says that he was working in one of the aisles when he was grabbed from behind and forcefully dragged into the storeroom where he saw that his assailant was the Joker who hit him in the temple knocking him out cold for, he estimates about five minutes. When he regained consciousness he found that he was bound with some nylon rope and his jacket was missing, he spent at least ten minutes trying to cut him self free with a pocket knife. When he came out he said that this is what he saw," detective Hawthorne reported.

"Did he touch anything?"

"No, he said he called the police on his mobile immediately after seeing the body."

"What do the tapes show?"

Another officer, Detective Brook Lynn-Bridge answered that question.

"The Joker ran in, did as the man said he did then came out with the man's jacket on. He picked up a hat from one of the shelves, then went to the service desk and pulled out a shotgun from under the counter. The woman came in and quickly looked around before coming to the counter, the Joker had turned around and loaded the shotgun by then, she said something, probably 'hello' or 'excuse me' and he turned around and shot her," she related, then her facial expression turned to one of disgust, "then here's something rather disgusting, he looked at the mess he made for a few seconds then picked up a lolly pop from off the shelf and walked out sucking on it."

"Why is that disgusting?" Gordon asked confused.

"Look where he got it from" she said and pointed to a shelf covered in body fluids.

"I see."

**It was a toss up between Myra Maines and Fay Tality. I finally decided that the latter was a little too obvious.**

**Review**** and you will get MOIST DELICIOUS CAKE!!!**

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	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five. The end is nigh.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine. **

The man in a purple suit sat down on the park bench, next to another man. A street light nearby barely illuminated the scene. The other man sighed tiredly one last time, his head drooping onto his chest. The purple suited man turned to stare at him with curiosity.

"You know… you really are an interesting guy Larry," the Joker said, "I mean, you came here a few weeks ago and almost instantly became Top Dog of the underworld. I hear it was because you treated your hired thugs nicely. Unfortunately for you even though you were good to them you didn't listen."

He played with the knife in his hands which reflected the moonlight.

"You didn't think that what they had to say was important, you thought that you could handle whatever came your way. Like me! Even if you did listen to them and paid attention to their warnings, you would have met me anyway. See, I like to bring the bosses down, not so much to my level, but just to make them lose everything they worked hard for. To show them that they aren't as big and scary as they think they are."

His eyes gleamed in the dark as though they possessed a hidden fire.

"You're no different, and I brought you down. You've lost your… your empire, your men, your riches… and your dog."

He looked down at the dead pooch being held tenderly in the man's lap.

"Don't worry, no don't worry, he didn't suffer like some… others. I just shot him through the head to get him to stop barking."

He giggled.

"It worked!"

The Joker stood up and stretched his legs, turning back around to face the man slumped on the bench.

"Now you thought that when you hired me you would be able to get rid of the Batman without my knowing, and then dispose of me later. Yes, I know Bruce Wayne is the Batman! And you knew too didn't you? I wonder how you figured it out?

Did you think that because he was the richest man in Gotham and because he was single and hadn't been seen in many nightclubs of late but had a habit of sleeping through meetings, was that what made you think he was the Batman? Or did you know him earlier? I recall him having gone off somewhere for a long time, so did you meet him overseas when he was all melancholy over his parents untimely death?

I only started to give it some thought after I kidnapped him, at your request, and that's when I really wanted to make you fall, for revenge. Not just for the fun of it anymore, though that was a big part of it I assure you. I wanted revenge for being tricked."

He licked his lips.

"See, I never get tricked. I can't ever remember being gullible enough to fall for the tricks of the boys at school or the attempts of the detectives to discover my name when they interrogated me. No, never. But you… you had me for a moment there, you caught me off guard.

I would have happily handed you the Batman if it wasn't for a slip of the tongue on Brucey's part and the fact that you didn't show up before the police came. You knew about that too didn't you. You knew that the police knew that Bruce was going to be kidnapped by your's truly and you thought that you could possibly turn the situation to your advantage. Get rid of me first then go after Brucey whenever you wanted to."

He cleaned some dirt out from under his nails with the knife.

"But unfortunately for you, I expected them to come to the chase. There were police shadowing him so obviously they knew about me and had a tracking device on Wayne, probably in his watch, just in case. But luckily for me I escaped and then went on a killing spree and how gleeful it was! I found out so many interesting things about you!"

His tongue flicked out of his mouth again, the movement was like that of a snake.

"You know the previous mob bosses that used to run this city a while back, Maroni and Gambol and whoever, they didn't want to use Scarecrow's fear toxin. Oh no, they declined saying it was too expensive or impractical, but not you. No, you took the gamble and decided to at least try it and see what you could accomplish with it. And a great big gamble it was too! You spent a heap of doe funding Mr Scarecrow's operation! But then I came along and crashed that whole organisation of his and you were left with a large hole burnt into your pocket and nothing to show for it."

He laughed out loud for a few moments, and licked his lips again.

"Did you like what I did with the bodies? I took the liberty to be a little more creative this time round, especially with your men. I even made the locations they were left in match the way I killed them, or tried to at least. There just isn't a location you can match to someone having a spear shoved through their throat, unless you count an oval but nobody plays javelin anymore. Then there was the Scarecrow and his men."

He fiddled with a loose string on his sleeve.

"See, when I was in jail after I tried to blow up the ferries and take over the city, some guard tried to intimidate me, so I bloodied him up and managed to get a taste of his blood and bits of eye. It was alright after I got used to the taste, so I thought that maybe other people might enjoy eating someone else. I'd be surprised if they didn't.

I mean people, figuratively, eat each other every day, taking advantage of each other. It's a dog eat dog world out there! I just took it one step further and made it physical! Don't look at me like that, it's not that bad, you just have to get past the… the social taboo of cannibalism. Then it's fine."

He thought for a moment then seemed to remember something.

"Do you wanna know how I got my scars? I was a gambler, once. One day I got in the deep end and had no money to pay off my debt. So I decided to steal some from my rich uncle, who I lived with at the time. He found out about it, and he didn't like it. Not… one… bit. So he gets a knife and says, 'I want my pound of flesh.' Of course I'd run away and hid, but he found me. He pulls me up and slams me against the wall and shoves a knife in my mouth. Then he laughs and asks, 'why so serious?' And still laughing, he slices my cheeks in two. It stopped me from gambling again."

He looked at his wrist watch.

"Ah look at the time, well Larry, I don't have much longer so I'll make it quick okay. It was interesting while it lasted, I won, you lost, the Batman is still roaming the streets oblivious to what nearly happened to him and Gotham city is going to go back to the way it was before. Police chasing after robbers and all that. In general, nothing will have changed. Sure we have left a scar but that doesn't completely change the way something looks and one day this will all just be a thing of the past that only the oldies could remember. And there you have it," he said with finality, spreading his arms out.

"Now if you don't mind, I think I'll be on my way."

And with that the Joker patted the man's cheek and walked off, a slight bounce in his step, his silhouette blending into the shadows of the night.

Larry remained slumped on the seat, unblinking. The water droplets in the frigid air condensing on his form, his faithful dog Lawson curled up in his arms, a smile carved into his face and his cold blood slowly dripping onto the damp earth.

**Yes, Larry is now a corpse… with a rictus grin! **

**Next chapter, the last, wraps everything up and I'll probably have it up tomorrow.**

**Review**** and you will get MOIST DELICIOUS CAKE!!!**

**With gold sprinkles!**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six. The Last.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Dark Knight or the Joker, but Larry is mine.**

Gordon sighed as he rummaged through his files. It had been almost a year since the Joker last terrorised Gotham city and people were still interested in the man. Especially ambitious psychologists who wanted to try their luck at solving him. Many had put forward theories but none could give any definite reason for the Joker's behaviour. Hailey Quinn, a psychologist in training, was the current ambitious college student. She waited patiently in front of his desk as he finally located the copies in one of his filing cabinets. Handing one to her he noticed that she took it with a slight reverence, as though receiving a note from the Queen.

"Good luck with solving the case Ms Quinn," he wished her.

"Thankyou," she said politely and left his office, clutching the file tightly.

The Joker was still wanted by the police but he was no longer on the top priority list seeing as they still had no idea where he had disappeared. If he was ever sighted in or around Gotham again then the police would immediately set up a man hunt and have everyone on high alert. There had been a few calls from some residents who believed that the Joker was in their area, reporting strange noises coming from next door or up the street. When investigated however, the reports were either because of mob activity or, in one case, someone having a movie marathon of action and horror movies. They did catch quite a few mob members so it wasn't a complete waste of time and resources.

He shook his head and sat down at his desk, intending to get through at least half the paperwork before lunch. He had made a promise to Barbara and his family not to work overtime unless absolutely necessary and he hadn't broken it yet.

...

Outside in the main street of Gotham, a crowd had gathered for the anniversary of the death of Gotham's White Knight. The media had circulated the idea that the Joker would return on this day. They thought he would choose this day to return because of what it symbolised and he would use it to show that evil had won the battle with good. Nevertheless, many citizens still turned up to the parade in his honour, though tighter security was being used.

As the mayor of Gotham gave a speech about the bravery and dreams of Harvey Dent, a little boy looked up at the top of one of the buildings and smiled.

Batman looked down upon the parade, remembering what had really happened but still feeling sorrow for the loss of such a promising man. The streets of Gotham were becoming safer and the mobs weaker. Batman knew that soon he would be able to rest and put down his mask, and stay awake during company meetings.

**A message from the Stig**

Well, it was fun while it lasted. There were periods when I felt too lazy to write and wanted to give up, but I strived to finish it thanks to RoxasRocks0813, Shmellington, Jadalia, MacAttack5 and Crystalphoenix for reviewing every chapter I put up here and their constant support, without them I would have never been motivated to update.

Just so you all know, I am already thinking of another Joker story. It may be a while in the making, I'm planning on making a more detailed plan and there are some things that I would have to figure out and there are also some other Fanfictions that demand to be written. Any way, if you ever see the Stig on here then you'll know it's me!


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